


Capture A Heart (Like A Melody)

by Sokkas_First_Fangirl



Series: I Lay My Life Before You [19]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alpha Brian, Alpha Roger Taylor (Queen), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Best Friends, Beta John Deacon, Cuddling & Snuggling, Despite what the press says, Everyone loves Freddie, Family Feels, Fluff, Freddie Mercury Is a Good Friend, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Light Angst, M/M, Male Friendship, Omega Discrimination, Omega Freddie Mercury, Omega Verse, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships, Protective Roger Taylor (Queen), Sexual Harassment, Team as Family, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 08:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 56,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21515326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sokkas_First_Fangirl/pseuds/Sokkas_First_Fangirl
Summary: The press liked to deplore Freddie as an awful example; they said he was everything an Omega shouldn't be. Wild, promiscuous, stubborn. There were a lot of people in his way, from the press to executives, to random people in the street. There were far too many people who wanted him to sit still and look pretty.It was a good thing then, that he had such a large pack, who loved him just the way he was.Otherwise known as a study in Freddie's relationships with his friends and family throughout the years.(ALSO otherwise known as: Everyone loves Freddie. After all, he's Freddie Mercury, darling.)
Relationships: Bomi Bulsara & Freddie Mercury, Brian May & Freddie Mercury, Elton John & Freddie Mercury, Freddie Mercury & Maeve Hutton, Freddie Mercury & Original Character(s), Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor, Jer Bulsara & Freddie Mercury, Jim Beach & Freddie Mercury, Jim Hutton/Freddie Mercury, Joe Fanelli & Freddie Mercury, Joe Fanelli/Freddie Mercury, John Deacon & Freddie Mercury, Kashmira Bulsara Cooke & Freddie Mercury, Mary Austin & Freddie Mercury, Peter "Phoebe" Freestone & Freddie Mercury, Rami Malek & Freddie Mercury
Series: I Lay My Life Before You [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1256678
Comments: 330
Kudos: 191





	1. Kashmira Bulsara: Flares

**Author's Note:**

> You know, this started out as an idea for a one-shot wherein Jim just gushes about Freddie, but then I started thinking about Kashmira, Phoebe and Deacy's relationships with Freddie as well, and everything sort of spiraled (as per usual with me.) Besides, Freddie's my favourite, I like to write Freddie-centric stories 😂
> 
> So here we are: one-shots examining Freddie's relationships with his pack (and extended pack).

**_“But did you see the flares in the sky? Were you blinded by the light? Did you feel the smoke in your eyes? Did you? (Did you?) Did you? (Did you?) Did you see the sparks filled with hope? And you are not alone, ‘cause someone's out there, sending out flares. Someone’s out there, sending out flares.” -Flares,_ ** **The Script**

The thing was, Kashmira had always looked up to her brother. She’d thrown tantrums whenever summer ended, and he had to go back to boarding school. She followed him everywhere, always wanting to copy him, always wanting to know what he was up to. She used to beg him to do her hair, to play piano for her, to sing to her.

She’d only been seven when he presented as an Omega. She didn’t quite _get_ it. She’d been too young to fully understand. Mama and Papa said that Freddie was _delicate,_ that he needed looking-after. But all Kashmira really understood was that Freddie wouldn’t be going to boarding school anymore. That was what she cared about; that he’d be at home with her now.

“We can play all the time!” she told him happily. He smiled at her, a small, tired smile. He smelled different. Sweeter. It was a nice smell, she liked it; what she _didn’t_ like was how tired Freddie was; he complained about headaches and he threw up.

“It’s okay,” Kashmira said. She’d followed him into the bathroom, ignoring his protests. She patted him on the back, childishly ignorant. “I can look after you, okay?”

He froze, sweaty and trembling, his hair falling in his eyes. He took a deep breath and smiled at her. “I know you can, darling,” he said.

She was too young then to realise he was faking that smile. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Even as she grew, Kashmira didn’t understand why being an Omega meant that Freddie was treated differently. Their parents spoke over him, they constantly told him to be quiet; they spoke to him as if he was five years old, as if he couldn’t understand what they were saying. When important guests came over, they made him kneel on the floor, and it set her blood boiling.

“It’s _stupid,_ ” she huffed, with all her nine-year-old wisdom. 

“It’s tradition,” Jer said patiently. “You’ll understand when you’re older, Kashi.”

She didn’t think she would. She didn’t think she wanted to.

Freddie was clever, she knew that; she didn’t understand how everyone else seemed to have forgotten. He was clever and funny; he was creative and kind. He always looked after her. Sometimes, she found herself wishing that she could do the same; she wanted to pull him off the floor, to pull him from the _house._ They could go to the beach and play in the waves, he could help her make sandcastles until their parents started treating him _normally_ again.

Sometimes it frustrated her. Although she was younger, it often felt like their parents listened to her more than they did to Freddie. It seemed like they took her more seriously. 

She just didn’t _get_ it. She watched them talk over Freddie, she watched them tell him to keep quiet; she watched as everyone around them acted like her brother was stupid, when she knew he wasn’t. 

“We’ll get our own house,” Kashmira announced haughtily when she was eleven. “You and me, Freddie. As soon as I present, we can move out!”

“Ah yes, they’ll give a pre-teen a house,” Freddie laughed, poking her on the nose. He smiled at her sweetly, the way he only smiled for her.

“They’ll give _you_ one,” she said stubbornly. “And I can go with you.”

He only shook his head, smiling, lightly tapping out a tune on the piano. 

“We _will,_ ” Kashmira insisted. “You’re of age, I’ll be of age soon; we can move out then, and I can scare any Alphas off.”

“If you’re a Beta or Alpha you won’t be of age until you’re sixteen or eighteen,” Freddie reminded her patiently. 

“But I can still look after you,” she said. “We’ll have our own house where no one can tell us what to do. We’ll stay out ‘til whatever time we want, we can eat as many sweets as we want, and I won’t have to do homework, and I won’t make you kneel on the floor, I promise.”

“You’re sweet, Kashi,” Freddie said. 

She took that as agreement.

  
  
  
  
  
  


When she was twelve, it all changed. Their parents arranged for Freddie to marry some _stranger,_ some weirdo named Dazmen Yazadi. She took one look at him and hated him on sight. He wanted to take her brother from her. No way. Not happening.

“Tell him to go away,” she said to Jer and Bomi. “Freddie doesn’t like him. He doesn’t want to marry him.” She’d been sure, so sure, that they’d listen to her. All she had to do was _say_ so, and they’d listen like always.

Not this time.

“It’s for the best,” Jer said. “Dazmen’s a wonderful Alpha.”

“Farrokh needs someone to look after him,” Bomi said. “You’ll understand when you’re older, Kashi. Omegas are different to us.”

Which prompted her to demand, “What if _I’m_ an Omega?” The thought suddenly frightened her. Would they simply stop taking her seriously if she was? Would they make her marry a stranger too? Would they not let her learn maths and science anymore? Would she not be allowed to talk anymore?

She wanted reassurance, but they only shook their heads at her, smiling patiently as if she was being so silly.

“You’ll see, dear,” Jer said. “Farrokh will come around. It’s just Omega modesty shining through.”

Kashmira didn’t think so. Freddie was shy, but she wouldn’t call him _modest._

She’d call him unhappy. Very unhappy. It seemed like she was the only one who noticed, and she couldn’t even _do_ anything about it. It wasn’t fair. He looked after her all the time; he helped her with her homework, he held her hand crossing the road; he sneaked her extra sweets, he sat with her when she was sick, he patiently let her rant about the rude girls in her class, he called her teacher rude names with her. If any boy ever pinched her or pulled her hair, Freddie swooped in and knocked them flying.

She couldn’t do the same. As if she could hit Dazmen for him.

She quite wanted to though.

  
  
  
  
  
  


And then, one day, she woke up to find a letter on her chest of drawers. A letter from Freddie. Every word of it was burned into her brain, but some parts stuck out more than most.

_I’m sorry, darling. I can’t stay here, I can’t marry him. I won’t let them sign my life away like this. I’ll write to you soon, once I’m safe, I promise. I promise, Kashi. I’ll be okay, you’ll be okay, you’ll hear from me soon._

She raged. She screamed at Jer and Bomi, she swore and wept until her voice cracked and deserted her, but it didn’t magically summon Freddie back.

_But he always comes when I cry,_ she found herself thinking foolishly. How could he come running when he wasn’t anywhere near her? Who knew where he was now? Was he even in Zanzibar anymore?

And oh the irony of it all: she presented as an Alpha two weeks after he left.

_You can come back now,_ Kashmira thought, curled up in bed. _I’m an Alpha. I can look after you like I said. We can get our house, we can stick together, you and me._

She was twelve, yet in the eyes of the law, she was suddenly so much more important than her seventeen-year-old brother. Her dynamic decreed that she could technically be left in charge of Freddie, that she could be responsible for him, _in charge_ of him.

She could protect him.

A little part of her was convinced that, if she’d only presented sooner, she could have convinced their parents against the marriage. That maybe, just maybe, she could have convinced them that she’d look after Freddie instead.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Even when they fled Zanzibar, she thought about him. _How will he know where to find us?_ she wondered. Was he even alive?

She was homesick, she was exhausted, and she just wanted her big brother. 

It wasn’t until 1974 that she found him again. Ten years since he’d disappeared. She’d vaguely heard of _Queen,_ one of her friends was absolutely batty about them, but she hadn’t actually listened to them, she hadn’t even looked at them. She heard the name _Freddie Mercury_ and tried not to wince.

It was honestly an accident; she was just channel-hopping, she hadn’t set out to watch Top Of The Pops, she’d just settled on it. She was only half-paying attention as the different acts took to the stage. Some of them were good, some of them were dull, and some of them were so obviously lip-syncing.

She didn’t look up when _Queen_ was announced. She didn’t look up until a beautiful, painfully familiar voice started to sing.

_“She keeps her Moet et Chandon in her pretty cabinet. ‘Let them eat cake,’ she says, just like Marie Antoinette…”_

_Freddie?_

Slowly, almost afraid to look, she sat up straight, eyes glued to the television.

And there he was, in a big fur coat, his hair straightened, with bold dramatic eyeliner. Tiny and enchanting, prancing like he owned the stage, chin up, confident. Her brother. Her Freddie.

Kashmira screamed, and her parents came running.

Jer immediately let out a strangled sob, swaying on her feet.

_“Farrokh!?”_ Bomi cried.

“Freddie,” Kashmira sobbed. She laughed, unable to help it. He’d always sworn he’d be a star one day. “It’s Freddie.”

_I knew you could do it._

  
  
  
  
  
  


It wasn’t hard to track him down after that. It only took two days to find the right address, the right number. She went alone; she didn’t tell their parents she’d found him. She went ahead, heart pounding, to bring her brother home.

Brian May, the tall, curly-haired Alpha guitarist answered the door.

“Can I help you?” he asked, eyeing her in confusion.

“I need to see Freddie,” she said bluntly. Her hands were starting to shake. “I’m his sister. Kashmira. Kashmira Bulsara.”

He looked ready to faint. He quickly pulled her inside, eyes wide, looking at her like he wasn’t sure if she was real.

“I need to see Freddie,” she repeated, desperation creeping into her tone. Brian yelled for Freddie, still looking at her like she wasn’t real. There was the sound of soft footsteps, and before she could brace herself, her brother was there.

His familiar scent reached her from across the room, flowers and spices, so familiar and comforting that it immediately relaxed her, but- good God, was that a _mark_ on his neck? His scent was _off,_ mixed with dark chocolate and oranges, but it was still _him,_ still her Freddie. 

True to form, like brother like sister, Freddie took one look at her and screamed.

She wasn’t sure who moved first. All she knew was that they were suddenly wrapped in each other’s arms, both of them sobbing and babbling in Gujarati.

“I’m sorry,” Freddie sobbed, clinging to her. “Oh God, Kashi darling, I’m sorry.”

“I missed you,” she said. “I love you, I love you so much, Fred.”

She was barely aware of his friends staring at them, though she couldn’t _help_ but warily eye Roger Taylor, the blond Alpha whose scent was mixed with her brother’s.

_And who the hell are you?_ part of her wanted to demand. _Have you been looking after him?_

Instead, she clung to Freddie’s hands, still crying, beaming all the while.

God, their parents were going to _flip._ They’d never believe this. _She_ couldn’t believe this. 

She knew one thing for sure: as they clung to each other, as he smiled at her the way he always did...She knew she was never letting him go again.


	2. Peter "Phoebe" Freestone: Scars To Your Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phoebe wasn't sure what he expected from meeting Freddie Mercury, but he sure didn't expect to make a lifelong friend, determined to boost his confidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phoebe content! 👏 Phoebe content! 👏  
> I've neglected the poor thing long enough. Phoebe Freestone deserves love, damn it.
> 
> So here we are: how they met, and some Phoebe backstory.

**_“There's a hope that's waiting for you in the dark; you should know you're beautiful just the way you are. And you don't have to change a thing, the world could change its heart. No scars to your beautiful, we're stars and we're beautiful.” -Scars To Your Beautiful,_ ** **Alessia Cara**

Phoebe had known who Freddie Mercury was before they met; he was a fan of the band, and he’d been delighted (and pleasantly surprised) to see a fellow Omega rise so high.

It was 1978 when they met. A show had been set up for charity, scheduled for next year, all different infamous dancers on stage, some singers to accompany the orchestra. It wasn’t just classical ballet, they wanted to incorporate different styles too...And to Phoebe’s surprise, Freddie Mercury was asked to participate. He’d expected that they’d just want him to sing, but no. They wanted him to dance too.

To his surprise, Freddie happily agreed to join in.

Phoebe was in charge of costumes, him and another Omega named Oscar. Unlike Phoebe, Oscar was petite with curling blonde hair and big blue eyes. He was the epitome of Omega beauty; just standing near him made Phoebe feel ungainly, too tall, too fat, just plain out unattractive.

He only felt _worse_ when he finally met Freddie face to face. The instructor, Yasmine, led him over to find a pair of shoes that fit his small feet. He was barefoot, in a Mickey Mouse shirt and leggings. He was such a small thing, so lithe, with big brown eyes and a shy smile.

_You’re tiny for a rockstar,_ was Phoebe’s first thought. The second thought was _Damn._ Because sure, Freddie wasn’t pretty the way Oscar was, but there was something about him that drew the eye: even without being on stage, even without the eye-grabbing costumes and flamboyance, there was... _something_ about him. It was hard to look away from him.

_That’s what an Omega should look like,_ Phoebe thought, despondent. He eyed Freddie’s tiny waist, his flat stomach, his height, and tried hard not to sigh.

“Hello, darling,” Freddie said, ducking his head when he smiled.

“Hello,” Phoebe said.

“Can you find him some shoes, Peter, love?” Yasmine asked. It was an easy task, it only took a minute- and to his surprise, Freddie was looking all around the dressing room, idly running a hand over the costumes, smiling at the headdresses and jewels. 

“You’re in charge of costumes?” Freddie asked.

“Well, me and Oscar,” Phoebe said. He found a pair of shoes, which Freddie tried on, kicking his legs and beaming.

“Sounds like fun,” Freddie said. He rocked up and down on his toes, twirling on the spot. Phoebe couldn’t help but laugh at him. With him.

“Seems more fun to do _your_ job,” he said, and Freddie’s grin widened; his hand immediately flew up to hide his teeth. Before they could continue talking, Yasmine was tugging Freddie away.

  
  
  
  
  
  


To his surprise, at the end of the day when Freddie came to return the shoes, he smiled and said, “Want to grab a drink, darling?”

Oscar admittedly looked put-out at being ignored by _Freddie Mercury._ Phoebe couldn’t quite bring himself to blame Oscar for it: after all, he was usually the one who got attention, out of the two of them. Almost every dancer in the company, be they Alpha, Beta or Omega, fawned over him. Ditto the teachers. Even quite a few musicians. And he _did_ look beautiful today in his blue silk shirt, his hair shining in the light.

Some of the dancers, Anna, Catherine, Dmitri and Terrence, lingered by the dressing room door, waiting for Oscar, frowning.

“We’re going out, Freddie,” Dmitri said. “You can come with us. Oscar, you in?”

“Of course,” Oscar said, winking at the handsome Alpha. Freddie folded his arms, pouting.

“Oh, well then.” He turned back to Phoebe. “Are you coming?”

“Er…” 

The others were shaking their heads. “Peter never goes out,” Anna scoffed. _You never invite me,_ Phoebe wanted to say, but he didn’t dare.

Freddie looked between them all, his pout growing. When his eyes narrowed, when he tilted his chin up, he suddenly seemed much taller.

“I’ll stay with Peter, thank you,” he said firmly. He turned back to Phoebe, meeting his astonished gaze, and offered a beaming grin. “You in, darling?”

He took in everyone’s stunned faces, their frowns. Their _jealousy._ And he looked at Freddie, with his sweet smile and earnest eyes.

And he grinned.

“Sure,” he said. “Thank you.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


The funny thing, Phoebe thought, was how quickly they clicked. Freddie made him feel at ease; he babbled a mile a minute, asking questions about the costumes, what shows Phoebe had worked on, how long he’d been doing it...And Phoebe happily answered, asking questions about touring, about studio shenanigans. They were soon walking along, arms linked, laughing like they’d known each other for years.

They found a nice bar nearby, the sort with fancy, brightly coloured cocktails. The prices were a little high, but for once Phoebe didn’t let it bother him. He was just...amazed. This sort of thing didn’t happen to him. Rockstars didn’t ask him to hang out. Rockstars didn’t chat as if they were old friends.

Maybe an hour later, when they were giggly and tipsy, one of the bar girls came over with a tray holding two bright pink cocktails.

“Oh, we didn’t order,” Phoebe hastened to say.

The bar girl grinned at them. “From the Alphas over there,” she said, jerking her head to the bar. She set the drinks down, winked at them, and went back to work.

Phoebe blinked at the drinks in confusion. When he looked up, two Alphas were indeed grinning at them, seated at the bar. They were both tall, probably as tall as Phoebe, with leather jackets and perfect jawlines. 

Absurdly, Phoebe found himself blushing. Freddie giggled, happily sipping the drink. He winked at the two Alphas, who looked utterly delighted.

“Well, drink up, darling!” he laughed, lightly nudging Phoebe. “Free drinks!”

“I- I just- are you _sure_ that’s mine?” The previous drinks had loosened his tongue, and he just...He wasn’t sure this wasn’t a joke. A prank. Wouldn’t be the first time. Because he was Peter Freestone, he was too tall, too fat, too plain. He was the opposite of what an Omega should look like, he’d had that drilled into him time and time again.

“Of course it is,” Freddie said. “They’re hardly both mine, dear.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Phoebe muttered.

Freddie looked at him, suddenly much more serious. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s be honest, Freddie, I’m not exactly what you’d call a looker.”

And Freddie, perfectly serious, said “What are on about, darling? You’re beautiful.”

He wanted to scoop that tiny thing up in his arms and hug him tight. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to shrink away in embarrassment. But most of all, he wanted to believe him.

“Thank you,” Phoebe said softly. Freddie smiled gently, squeezing his hand. Phoebe glanced back at the Alphas. One of them craned his neck, still looking at them. When Phoebe smiled shyly, his grin widened.

“Next you’ll be batting your eyelashes,” Freddie teased.

“You’re the one who _winked_ at them!” Phoebe protested- and before he could get his bearings, the two Alphas were there.

“And what are two lovely things like you doing here all alone?” the one on the right asked. He was dark-haired, dark-eyed with a diamond earring. It was the most typical, worn-out line ever, but Phoebe found himself flushing and ducking his head all the same.

“Just- we just got off work,” he said limply. Freddie slowly stirred his drink with his straw, peering up at the two Alphas through his eyelashes.

“Yeah?” the second Alpha said. “Same here.” He sat across from them, smiling. 

Phoebe glanced at Freddie, who grinned at him. Slowly, he started to relax.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The next day, at the ballet studio, Phoebe and Oscar were allowed to sit in on rehearsals. Phoebe listened with only half an ear as Oscar told him about his night with Dmitri; he watched Freddie with a smile instead. He was a flexible little thing, stubborn and doing his best to keep up with the others.

He already had a million ideas of what costumes would suit Freddie the best. He and Brian used to have that black-and-white theme going on, maybe Phoebe could work with that somehow…

At the start of lunch, as they all drifted off into their little groups, Phoebe caught Terrence’s eye. Terrence smirked at him, and turned to Catherine.

“Freddie’s doing well,” he said. “If nothing else, we’ll have the best singer in England.” He threw a look at Phoebe, eyebrows raised, and added; “He’s what an Omega should look like- so slim, unlike _some_ people.”

He tried not to let it hurt, but it did. It always did. He bit his lip, glancing away- but Freddie had heard. And he wasn’t happy.

“Yes, those people being yourself,” he said coldly. He stood by the barre, hands on hips, glaring Terrence down. “Though I’m sure the reason you’re so heavy-footed is mostly to do with your big head weighing you down.”

“You-” Terrence flushed red, sputtering. Dmitri snickered into his fist. Oscar gaped. 

Freddie though, stood as tall as he could. Condescension _oozed_ from him. That was what Phoebe was used to seeing on the telly: that haughty demeanor, that unimpressed glance and sneer. 

“Manners never hurt anyone,” he added. “I understand you must be bitter because no Omega will shag you, but that’s no excuse to be rude to Peter, now is it?”

“You- you _gawky_ little-”

“Yes, yes, gawky, ugly, scrawny, I’ve heard it all before,” Freddie snorted. He waved a dismissive hand, strutting over to Phoebe. “Trot along now.”

No other dancers stepped forward to Terrence’s defence. Even the most stuck-up, sexist of Alphas seemed thrown-off.

Phoebe looked at Freddie, tiny and headstrong, easily drawing the whole room to a standstill. The sun shone through the windows, glinting off his hair, drawing attention to his eyes. Phoebe had a sudden image: shimmering silver gauze, maybe for the sleeves. A silver leotard, sequins, white ballet shoes; flowers in his hair, diamonds at his neck. He’d look like a fairy on stage, enchanting everyone.

The others trooped off, almost uncertainly, and Freddie took his hand, beaming up at him. “Ignore him, love,” he said firmly. An order from His Majesty. “Ignore the whole bloody lot of them. They don’t know what they’re talking about, prissy little shits.”

“Prissy little shits,” Phoebe agreed with a laugh. 

Often, he thought it seemed like Freddie put crowds under a spell, an enchantment. Despite himself, Phoebe found himself falling for it himself. Despite himself, he found himself listening when Freddie called him beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Precious boys 💕 Up next, I'm thinking I'll pick Deacy.


	3. John "Deacy" Deacon: Follow Your Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's always admired Freddie; he's always been happy to let Freddie fuss over him like a mother-hen. Sometimes though, he wishes he could return the favour. Then, at the end of a show, he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Follow Your Fire" just gives me major John and Freddie vibes, I love it ❤ Anyway, I've seen a prompt floating around tumblr wherein a "crazed fan" manages to get on stage and grab Freddie, and I could just so easily see my Deacy flipping out first.

**_“We had the songs that we sang along to; you had the moves to make me dance with you, I always saw you reaching and catching stars. (Did you follow your, follow your fire?) We had the thing that everyone wanted. Hung on your sleeve, you wore your heart on it. Did you get out? I'm wondering where you are. (Did you follow your, follow your fire?)” -Follow Your Fire,_ ** **Kodaline**

John had known before the audition that  _ Smile’s  _ lead singer was an Omega. Another boy in his class, George, had auditioned too. He’d flirted with the Omega, only to be turned down. When his Alpha bandmates stepped in, he accused them of “sharing” the Omega singer.

Apparently, the drummer tried to punch him.

It didn’t exactly make John feel confident. He nearly didn’t go. But...Well, he was curious. He didn’t know any other bands with an Omega lead singer- or an Omega  _ anything,  _ if he was honest. Besides, he’d heard they were brilliant, before their last singer quit.

He was curious.

Walking into the audition didn’t make his confidence grow. If anything, it shrank. He knew their names, from arranging the audition: Roger Taylor, Brian May and Freddie Bulsara.

He’d spoken with Brian on the phone, he knew that Brian and Roger were Alphas, but nothing prepared him for actually  _ seeing  _ them. Brian lounged in a chair, oddly elegant despite his crumpled clothes. He idly strummed his guitar (a guitar unlike any John had seen before), and even that lazy playing caught John’s attention. He was  _ good.  _ He suddenly found himself doubting his own skills.

Roger sat precariously on the window ledge, smoking. He was so handsome it hurt, with his tousled golden hair and big blue eyes. He looked like a painting come to life, everything an Alpha should be. Broad shouldered, oozing confidence, grabbing John’s attention even though he was just sitting still. It made him feel very plain and scrawny in comparison. 

And then there was Freddie Bulsara. He sat on the floor, sketching. Sure enough, no one had lied, he was an Omega. His long black hair fell in his eyes; he was biting his lip, and John immediately felt guilty for noticing his large teeth. And yet, just like the other two, it was hard to look away from him. John wasn’t sure he’d call him  _ pretty  _ or  _ beautiful,  _ not in the traditional sense, and yet those words seemed to work anyway.

He half-wondered about backing away, sneaking out of the room before they could notice, but Freddie looked up. His smile was shy and sweet.

“John Deacon?” he asked, getting to his feet. Brian held a hand out for him, helping him up. Roger flicked the last of his cigarette out of the window, looking John up and down.

“That’s me,” John confirmed, gulping. With all three looking at them, he was suddenly hyper-aware of his own appearance: his hair was horribly wind-swept, there was grease and oil on his jeans from earlier tinkering, and he’d seen himself in the window on the way up here, he knew his face was flushed from the cold.

He couldn’t have looked impressive, standing there and clutching his bass like a lifeline, but Freddie shook his hand anyway, smiling all the while.

“Let’s hear you then, darling.” 

_ Darling?  _ John thought. But he played. He was soon lost in it, his eyes falling closed, relaxing as the song continued. There was a long pause when he finally finished, and he was afraid to open his eyes. Silence surely wasn’t a good thing?

Nervously, he opened his eyes. Roger was gaping, Brian was smiling and nodding; Freddie had his small hands pressed over his mouth, his eyes crinkling with the force of his grin. He started to clap; finally grinning, Roger joined in, quickly followed by Brian.

“You’re  _ brilliant, _ ” Brian said. John couldn’t help but preen, standing as straight as he could, ignoring the instinct to slouch. 

“Boys, huddle,” Roger said imperiously, tugging to two towards him. They leaned into each other, whispering away. Freddie threw him a small smile. They didn’t debate for too long. They broke apart, each of them smiling.

“When can you start, dear?” Freddie asked.

“Wait- I’m in? Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Freddie confirmed.

He couldn’t believe it had been that easy. Sure, he’d known he was good, but- but good enough to have all three of them looking at him like  _ that?  _ As if he was something truly impressive? Surely not…

But they  _ were  _ looking at him like that. And it was weird, because he was just a Beta. Alphas never looked at him like he was anything special. Neither did Omegas.

Not until now.

“I...I can start right away, really,” he said.

“Perfect!” Freddie beamed at him. “We’ll be here around six tomorrow. Is that okay?”

John nodded. Freddie squeezed his hand.

  
  
  
  
  
  


John quickly figured out that they were an unusual group. Roger and Brian never told Freddie to shut up (not  _ seriously  _ anyway), they held doors open for him; their hands and eyes never wandered. They both looked at him like he was something special.

They didn’t talk over John, they didn’t shoot his ideas down. They heard him out. They laughed  _ with  _ him, not at him, they didn’t push him around. They treated him like an equal, quickly dragging him into their funny like group like he’d always been there.

And Freddie, bless him, fussed over John at every little opportunity. He always made John promise to call when he got home safely. The first time John turned up to their flat, soaking wet from the rain, Freddie fussed worse than John’s mother. He was the only one home, and he rushed about grabbing towels and blankets, finding spare clothes for him to wear.

“You poor thing,” he said, still fretting. He made John a cup of tea and hovered until he’d finished it all.

“It’s just rain, Freddie,” John laughed.

“You could get sick,” Freddie said, folding his arms. He had that stubborn look on his face.

“You’re such a mum,” John said, stupidly fond of him. Freddie just shrugged.

“So?” he asked. 

_ So,  _ indeed. It was sweet. John couldn’t say he cared, not really. Not at all in fact. He rather liked it.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was always like that. At one of their first huge parties with EMI, an Alpha, some drummer or other, offered John cocaine.

Freddie quickly slapped it out of the Alpha’s hands.

“What are you  _ doing? _ ” he demanded. “Don’t give him that!”

“Fuck off, Omega, it’s just a bit of fun.” The Alpha was clearly already high himself, eyes blown, jittery. John warily looked around, wondering if they were about to be landed in serious trouble, but no one seemed to notice. He couldn’t see Roger or Brian, and that worried him. He’d feel safer if they were there.

But Freddie held onto John’s hand, pushing John behind him.

“You do whatever you want,” he said. “But leave my Deacy out of it.” And he dragged John away, ignoring the Alpha’s shouted insults of “Fucking whore!” and “Stupid bitch!”

“You keep  _ away  _ from that stuff, love, you hear me?” Freddie said firmly. He was still holding John’s hand. “If anyone tries pushing anything on you, you tell me. I’ll sort them out.”

It should have sounded ridiculous. After all, youngest or not, he  _ was  _ a grown man. Freddie was so tiny, an Omega in a room full of Alphas and Betas; he was being stared at like a toy, leered at, pinched and slapped whenever he left Roger’s side. All the Omega waiters and waitresses were only half-dressed, the same went for the tiny handful of Omega artists. If anyone wasn’t safe here, it was Freddie.

And yet, John believed him.

“Okay,” he said.

“Promise me, Deacy.”

“I promise, Fred.” Impulsively, John hugged him. He knew he wasn’t that great at showing affection, but now he clung to Freddie, grateful, protected and protective all at once. “Love you.”

“Love you too, darling.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


That was the way of things. Brian fussed over them all like a mother-hen, Roger fussed over Freddie every minute of every day, but Freddie fussed over John. He fretted when John was ill; he held him and let him cry when it was his dad's anniversary. He sat with John and held his hand, calming him down when Veronica announced her pregnancy.

Being around him was the first time John had really stopped to  _ think  _ about Omegas. It was the first time their lack of rights and protection really hit him. He understood why Roger was so fiercely protective. He looked at Freddie, he looked at Veronica, and he just wanted to keep them  _ safe.  _

Veronica, his lovely beautiful Ronnie, the mother of his children, the love of his life.

And Freddie, his generous, wonderful Freddie, pseudo-big brother, pseudo-parent. 

It was well-known that John looked up to him. It was one of the few things he’d be open about, one of the few things he refused to be embarrassed or awkward about. When the press asked, he was honest. He loved Freddie to bits. The media may like to say Omegas were helpless, but Freddie was one of the strongest people he knew. How could John  _ not  _ admire him?

Sometimes, he wished that he could return the favour. Freddie looked after him all the time, but  _ Roger  _ looked after Freddie. When Freddie miscarried in 1978, _none_ of them could do anything to help, not even Roger. John had felt so terribly useless. Freddie looked after him all the time, but there wasn’t much room for John to do the same.

Not until 1979. 

It was nearly the end of their show; Freddie was wearing his leather trousers and a tie, and not much else. The crowd was entranced, singing and clapping along, heartily responding to his  _ “AY-OH!”  _ As he announced it was the end of the night, they all let out disappointed groans.

“I know, I know lovies,” Freddie said like an indulgent parent. “But we’re back tomorrow night, don’t you fret!”

It was a great night, but when the wild-eyed man clambered onto the stage and ran at Freddie, John froze.

Freddie stumbled back, but the man grabbed him by the hips. One hand squeezed Freddie’s arse, he leaned in to kiss him.

It was only a couple of seconds, but it seemed to last hours.

John even beat Roger to the punch.  _ Literally.  _ He even beat Brian on his long legs. Instinct carried him forward. The need to keep his pack safe, to keep his  _ brother  _ safe, energised him. He raced towards Freddie and punched the fan in the face as hard as he could.

It was enough: the man jerked back, his eyes were wide and glassy, his pupils blown. John pushed Freddie behind him, wielding his bass like a baseball bat. Brian grabbed Freddie, holding their resident Omega against his chest. Roger grabbed the man by the scruff of the neck, snarling.

Security was there in seconds, dragging him away.

_ “I love you!”  _ the man screeched. “I wouldn’t leave you, not like Roger, you should be with  _ me!  _ I love you, I’ll  _ show  _ you, Freddie!”

“You stay away from him!” John barked. Now that the man was gone, he could feel himself starting to shake. He spun around to look at Freddie. He was clinging to Brian, clearly frightened, but he shook his head and smiled.

“Get you, Deacs,” he said softly. The crowd was shouting, swearing; everyone seemed to be calling out concerned questions, their voices jumbling together until they were gibberish.

Red-faced, furious, Roger took Freddie from Brian’s arms, surprisingly gentle, considering he looked ready to kill someone. He kissed the top of Freddie’s head, and John could practically see the headlines already: no doubt the press would expect Freddie and Roger to  _ “get back together”  _ after that little display.

Freddie leaned into Roger, Brian hurried them all off the stage- and Freddie reached for John’s hand, holding on tight.

“Are you alright, darling?” he asked.

“Bloody hell, don’t worry about  _ me, _ ” John said. “Christ, Fred, are  _ you  _ okay?”

“I’m fine,” Freddie said, but John wasn’t so sure. They were led straight back to their dressing room, where Roger let rip on the security.

“What the fuck was that!?” he demanded. “He could have been fucking  _ killed! _ ”

Maybe it should have sounded like an exaggeration, but it didn't. Not at all. The thought was terrifying. Brian was soon shouting too, and John edged closer to Freddie. In a role reversal, he held Freddie close, letting Freddie rest his head on John’s shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You’re okay.”

“I know I am, love,” Freddie said, but he was a trifle too pale, he was trembling. So John held onto him, running a hand through Freddie’s hair the way Freddie always did for him. He let Freddie’s familiar scent wash over him, and tried to block out all the yelling.

“Weren’t you brave?” Freddie said, poking him on the nose with a fond smile. “You little hero.”

“Hardly,” John muttered.

“You reacted so fast,” Freddie said. “Really, Deacy darling, thank you.” His eyes and smile were earnest, he leaned into John’s embrace.

“Anytime,” John said, and could have kicked himself. “I mean, obviously not  _ anytime,  _ because that better not happen again, but-”

“Darling?”

“Yeah, Fred?”

“Just accept the thank you, okay?” He leaned into John again, watching Brian and Roger continue to berate security. Miami was yelling now too. Even Reid was yelling about safety. 

“I almost feel bad for them,” Freddie said.

“I don’t,” John scoffed, holding on tighter. “They’re meant to keep you  _ safe. _ ”

“Well, I’ve got you for that, haven’t I?” For a moment they were quiet, both of them trying to relax now that they were away from the screaming crowd. John wondered what would happen to man. Would he be arrested, or did they just throw him out?

“Deacy, darling, would you really have hit him with your bass?”

“Of course,” John said firmly. “He tried to hurt you.”

Freddie smiled at him, but John meant it. He wouldn’t let that happen again. Honestly, he almost couldn’t believe that he’d  _ done that.  _ He’d actually hit the guy, he’d even gotten there first.

For once, he was doing the protecting.

He didn’t mind at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So next up, I'm thinking Miami; a few of you were asking for him. If there's anyone else you really want to see ASAP, or any particular scenarios, let me know, I'm always open to suggestions 😊


	4. Jim "Miami" Beach: Eyes Open

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miami is something of a gentleman: he was raised to see Omegas as equals, not property. When an opportunity finally presents itself to get Freddie equal pay, he takes it. It's the least he can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have the funds, please take the time to donate to the Mercury Phoenix Trust today. If not, celebrate Freddie the way he would have wanted, and blast his music as loud as you can.  
> Thanks for everything, Freddie. Wherever you are, I hope you're safe, and happy, wrapped in Jim's arms 💕

**_“But now we've stepped into a cruel world, where everybody stands and keeps score. Keep your eyes open. Everybody's waiting for you to break down. Everybody's watching to see the fallout. Even when you're sleeping, sleeping, keep your eyes open.” -Eyes Open,_ ** **Taylor Swift**

Truth be told, Jim wasn’t that much older than the lads in _Queen,_ but he knew he looked older than his years, what with his suits and perfect posture, his styled hair and crows-feet. 

He knew he looked stern at first glance. His mother cooed that he looked “so impressive,” whereas his father approvingly said he looked “professional.” 

He rather wished he could know just what _Queen_ were thinking. They eyed him warily, and he supposed they expected...Well, what he looked like. A suit. No nonsense. He knew his smile fell flat, he couldn’t help it- ironically enough, _they_ intimidated _him_ too.

Their first meeting was awkward, and they could all admit that. Reid introduced them, and Jim was torn: on the one hand, he wanted to seem approachable. On the other hand, he didn’t want them to walk all over him. They looked like they could.

He shook their hands, trying to smile properly; as his father had taught him, he kissed Freddie’s knuckles. Unlike most, he hadn’t been raised to see Omegas as toys. After all, his own mother was one. And if the kid had already come this far, he had to have spunk.

Freddie chuckled at him, a little surprised, but at least he was smiling. The other three seemed confused. Roger looked a little miffed, and Jim remembered with a jolt of panic that Roger was Freddie’s Alpha.

_Great start. Offend the drummer._ Christ, was he already off to a bad start?

And honestly, as he was taken to meet Foster, Jim soon saw the problem. The man spoke over John, he ignored Freddie entirely. When Jim was shown _Queen’s_ contract, his stomach sank. He could read between the lines easily. They seriously expected Freddie to be someone’s sex toy if he and Roger broke up? No wonder Roger seemed so protective.

The first few meetings stayed awkward. There was a mutual wariness. A mutual sense of _Do you like me or not?_ An awkward sort of truce, no-man’s land. No one quite knew how to break the underlying tension.

Leave it to Freddie, of course.

Reid was going over some sales or other with Foster, discussing royalties. All he did was mention Jim’s name, he mentioned that Jim had reviewed the royalties too, when Freddie, cigarette between his teeth said, “Oh please, we simply _must_ stop calling him that.”

Stop calling him...By his name? What was Freddie on about?

“That’s his name,” Reid said.

“It’s unspeakably boring,” Freddie said imperiously. Freddie looked at him, twirling the cigarette between his fingers. His eyes were narrowed, apparently doing some deep thinking.

“Miami,” he eventually said. “I dub thee, Miami Beach.” He gave a satisfied little nod.

Everyone looked at Jim, clearly expecting him to argue. But he was amused.

“Hm...Sun always sets behind you, doesn’t it?” he asked. At their confused glances, he clarified; “At...At Miami beach…” No one laughed, and he tried not to wince, certain he was coming across as a complete idiot.

But Freddie smiled at him, well pleased.

“Right,” Foster drawled. “Well, now that everyone has a suitable name, let’s continue, yeah?”

Jim- _Miami-_ glanced at Freddie. The Omega smirked at him, a smirk that only grew when Miami smiled.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Freddie was an odd one. Shy, but so opinionated. Flamboyant, but quiet. Confident, but insecure. Overall, he was much stronger than he looked.

He’d have to be, to put up with EMI. To put up with...Well, _everything_ if Miami was honest. The world wasn’t fair to Omegas, he knew that. Most of his early cases as a lawyer had involved Omega rights. When it came to Omega performers, they raised complaints about inappropriate behaviour from their bosses with alarming frequency.

He still remembered a day out when he was six: he’d gone shopping with his mother. He was holding onto her hand, it was near Christmas, and he was distracted by all the lights, nibbling some gingerbread. His mother was looking over their shopping list again, while like most children, he was wondering what presents he’d get. 

He was abruptly snapped out of it when an Alpha man, a perfect stranger, gave his mother a harsh slap on the arse.

“Looking good, Omega!” he called over his shoulder, laughing as he walked away.

“Mummy?” Miami had gawped at her, at her red face and tear-filled eyes. “Mummy, why’d he do that?”

“Some people are very silly, sweetheart,” she said, valiantly smiling. No one asked if she was okay. Most people didn’t even look twice. Another Omega man gave her a sympathetic smile, but didn’t say anything.

_Silly._ Such a weak word, when you thought about it.

He decided he hated Norman Sheffield on their second meeting. Sheffield had cornered Freddie in the hallway, easily leaning over him, the man was as tall as Brian, maybe a little taller.

“You do look lovely today, my dear,” he said, looking Freddie up and down.

“Thank you,” Freddie said stiffly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He went to dodge around Sheffield, but the CEO grabbed his arm, jerking him back.

“You’re always so tense,” he laughed. “You need to learn to take a compliment.” He pulled Freddie closer, his free hand was on Freddie’s hip, inching lower, and Miami saw red.

“Norman,” he said coldly, stepping around the corner. Freddie looked relieved, but also resigned, like he wasn’t really expecting help. It reminded him uncomfortably of how his mother looked, when this sort of thing happened or was brought up.

Miami had gotten into a fit of temper over some of his earlier cases, especially the ones he lost; he hated not being able to help. He hated how his Omega clients just _crumpled_ when he was forced to admit that he couldn’t help them. His mother only shook her head sadly, sympathetically.

_“You can’t help everyone, Jim,”_ she said softly. And no, maybe he couldn’t, but he _could_ help Freddie.

“Ah, Jim.” Sheffield’s smile stiffened, his grip on Freddie went lax, and Freddie quickly jerked away, hurrying to Miami’s side.

“Roger was starting to think you’d gotten lost, Freddie,” Miami said, forcing a smile. He gave Sheffield a pointed look; thank God, Sheffield took the hint. He gulped a little at the mention of Roger’s name. He didn’t say anything else. He looked at Freddie, rolled his eyes, and left.

“Are you alright?” Miami asked quietly.

“Hm? Oh, I’m fine, darling,” Freddie said, waving a dismissive hand.

“Fred.”

“...I hate him,” Freddie admitted. And Freddie, their little showman, forced a convincing smile. “But what can you do about it?”

That was the kicker, wasn’t it? Until the contract was up, there wasn’t a whole lot that could be done.

That didn’t mean Miami was going to ignore it.

“If he does that again, tell me,” he said. “I’ll work something out.”

Freddie looked at him almost indulgently, like he was just humouring Miami when he agreed.

But Miami meant it. He couldn’t help everyone, but so long as he worked for this band, he’d work towards their best interests.

  
  
  
  
  
  


In 1979, Miami finally got his chance to make a difference. Walter Jones, the CEO of Lightning Records, sold the whole company to one James Hamilton. Of course, everyone was worried about what this meant for their jobs. Surely there’d be losses?

Indeed, there were. Bands and solo artists were assigned to new executives, some were transferred to Hamilton’s label, Hamilton Music Industry, and assigned to executives and managers there.

Of course _Queen_ was in a panic. They knew by now, that Reid would go along with any changes, so long as it added to his pay-cheque. Horace Leroy, the executive that had signed them, was perfectly kind. A little pompous at times, but he always took their opinions seriously, even Freddie’s. They could be handed over to anyone, with a whole new contract.

Meeting Hamilton took some of that worry away. He was surprisingly understanding.

“Don’t worry, boys,” he said. “You’ve done well with Leroy; I’d reckon it’s for the best if you stay with him.”

But everyone’s contracts were still being reviewed; there was the (reasonable, terribly reasonable) fear that Freddie’s pay would be docked, just because he was an Omega. He made 70-75% of what the others did, depending on the sales, depending on if he wrote the song or not. That could be brought right down.

“You’ll be fine, lads,” Reid said dismissively, but Miami wasn’t about to take that chance.

He went to Hamilton himself.

“Ah, Mr. Beach,” he said with a smile, when Miami entered his office. “Good to see you. What can I do for you?” He was an Alpha of average height, his hair was grey, his eyes were grey.

“It’s about _Queen’s_ contract,” Miami said.

“No need to worry,” Hamilton said. “I’ve already reviewed it, and see no need to change it.”

“I do,” Miami said. He took a deep breath, and said something that stood a very real chance of getting him laughed out of the room: “I think Freddie ought to be paid equally.” It was a gamble: Hamilton might agree, or he might disagree. He might be angry enough to dock Freddie’s pay after all. At best, maybe he’d just tell Miami to leave.

Sure enough, Hamilton looked flabbergasted. “I beg your pardon?” he asked. “With all due respect, he’s an _Omega._ He’s getting highly paid as it is.”

“High enough for the man who wrote _Bohemian Rhapsody?_ ” Miami countered, raising his eyebrows. Hamilton paused, steepling his fingers together.

“Continue.”

“Omega or not, Freddie’s one of the most talented men you’ll ever meet. As soon as the news broke that you bought this company, plenty of people came sniffing wanting to manage _Queen._ Some of them are willing to pay him equally.” A lie, but bluffing never hurt anyone.

Hamitlon nodded as Miami spoke. “I see,” he said. “Hm…” 

The silence stretched on, and Miami fought not to break first. He sat, tense and impatient, as Hamilton thought it over.

“Well then,” Hamilton eventually said. “I suppose you have a point. He’s certainly a rare talent, and I’d hate to lose that band if I’m honest.” He gave a small smile, and nodded. “Yes, talent like that deserves recognition.”

“I’m sure Freddie would be thankful,” Miami added. “I’m sure he’d tell other Omegas that you pay equally.”

At that, Hamilton lit up. Miami could practically see the pound signs flashing in his eyes. _Jackpot._ “Would he? My, my…” He nodded again. “Yes, you’re right, Mr. Beach. Quite right. Get Reid to arrange a meeting, won’t you? I’d like to tell the lad myself.”

_Of course you would,_ Miami thought. 

He smiled and shook Hamilton’s hand. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll get right on it.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


The next time he saw Freddie, the Omega threw himself into Miami’s arms.

“You utter _darling!_ ” he cried. “Miami, you’re a genius, I can’t believe you pulled that off!”

“It’s- oh, Fred, it’s nothing,” Miami said, slightly flustered. But Freddie was beaming up at him, utterly glowing in delight, letting out excited little giggles.

“You’re brilliant,” he said. “You actually got him to listen!” Freddie laughed gleefully and added, “All I had to do was bat my eyelashes, thank him, and he was tripping over himself to pay me! How’d you _do_ that, darling?”

“Oh, just stroked his ego a bit,” Miami smiled, hugging him back. “He’s pompous, but he means well, I suppose.”

Honestly, Miami couldn’t quite believe it had been so easy either. It was a gamble, but it paid off. It could have gone horribly wrong, but for once it all went _right._

  
And seeing his friend so happy, seeing him be treated _equally_ for once, was more than worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's mentioned in "My Lonely Days Are Through" that Freddie only started to get paid equally in 1979, when their company came under new management, thanks to some quick thinking on Miami's part. It seemed like a fitting scenario to use for his chapter 😊


	5. Veronica Deacon: She's So Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's just nice to have another Omega around. Someone who understands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Veronica and Freddie friendship! 👏👏 Sometimes, you just need some Omega-only time.

**_“Here I am, this is me, and I'm stronger than you ever thought I'd be. Are you shocked? Are you mad, that you're missing out on who I really am? Now it looks like the joke's on you. ‘Cause the girl that you thought you knew, she's so gone.” -She’s So Gone,_ ** **Naomi Scott (Lemonade Mouth)**

Sometimes, it was just nice having another Omega around. Someone who _got it._ She loved John, she loved her children (and when Joshua and Cameron presented as Omegas, she admittedly worried herself sick), but...Well, most of their group consisted of Betas and Alphas.

It was nice to have another _adult_ Omega around, she should say. Someone near her in age, who understood what it was like. Someone who understood why she and John worried about how the world would treat her Omega boys, because he had the same worries for his daughter.

“She’s feisty,” Veronica remembered telling him, soon after Maeve presented. “Just like you. She’ll be fine.”

Freddie smiled gratefully, but she could tell he was still worried. Well, he’d have to be nuts to not worry. Parents always worried.

But even before that, before the mutual “I just want my baby to be safer than I was,” there was the mutual “I’d like some equality.” Veronica remembered fighting her parents tooth and nail over moving out. They wanted her to stay home with them, where it was _safe._ They hadn’t even wanted her to go to college, they claimed she didn’t need it. Her place was at home.

And well, she _did_ want to be a wife and mother, don’t get her wrong. But she wanted to study, to look after herself in the meantime. She didn’t want to rely on her parents for everything, she wanted to show them that she could look after herself.

She remembered how giddy she’d been when she met John. He’d been so shy, such a gentleman. Meeting his friends, his pack, had been a surprise: all three of them were welcoming and kind. Brian and Roger were perfectly friendly; they made no jokes, they didn’t scoff at the idea of a Beta and Omega together.

And then there was Freddie, an Omega just like her, who fussed over John like a mother. Immediately, as soon as they met, she instinctively relaxed. He was an Omega too. He rolled his eyes when the media objectified Omegas; he caught her equally annoyed gaze and scoffed, a silent _Can you believe this shit?_

He was shy like her, yet he seemed much more capable of telling the cat-callers to fuck off.

“Aren’t you scared of them?” Veronica remembered asking one night, soon after they met. They were all at the local pub, and a group of Alphas had called out for Freddie to come and- well, to suck their cocks to be blunt.

They looked like they could break Freddie in half, but Freddie furiously rounded on them and told them to fuck off. “I doubt there’s anything to work with,” he added viciously. 

“Of course,” Freddie told her, shrugging. “A lot of the time anyway. But you can’t let them know that, it just encourages the fuckers. If they think they don’t intimidate you, if they think they’re not in control, they usually back off.”

“And when they don’t?”

He grinned, a gleam of mischief and vicious glee in his eyes. “That’s when you knee them in the balls, Ronnie.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. She wondered if he had a point.

  
  
  
  
  
  


In 1982, a small chain of Omega clubs open. No Betas or Alphas allowed. There was immediate uproar. The popular opinion in the media was that these clubs were an insult. It was unfair, blatantly unfair, to not permit Alphas access. It was arrogant. Scandalous. 

And yet, there were plenty of clubs that only permitted Alphas. There were plenty that only permitted Alphas and Betas. No Omegas allowed. They were everywhere, they were popular, and no one said it was unfair or arrogant.

She didn’t see the big deal. Honestly, she...Kind of liked it. It was a nice thought. To have their own space.

A lot of her Omega friends disapproved. They would be avoiding such places. It was inappropriate, they said. They didn’t _need_ these clubs. It was just causing upset. They didn't want to upset their Alphas or Betas by going. Why cause a fight?

But she liked the idea. She tried to imagine sitting in a room full of Omegas, knowing that no one was going to pinch her arse, or try to look down her shirt or grab her breasts. No yelling. No cat-calls.

Because that had always been a big concern on nights out. What she’d do when someone inevitably tried to touch her, or call out innuendos. Obviously, not all Omegas were saints, but...But it sounded so _nice._

Normally she’d ask John to go with her, but obviously she couldn’t this time. Most of her other Omega friends refused to step foot in such places.

She went to Freddie.

“Of course I’ll go, darling!” he said happily. “I’ve been meaning to check them out myself. Phoebe really enjoyed it when he went.”

A tiny part of her had worried he’d say no. She should have known better.

So they went.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was a small club, easy to miss from the outside. There were no flashing lights outside, nothing bright and quirky to grab attention. Only two requirements to get in: be of age, and be an Omega.

It was pretty busy inside, but she’d seen busier. The music was good, the drinks were good (and pretty cheap); the dancefloor was where most people were.

Sure enough, no Alphas or Betas. The scent of Omegas filled the room and Veronica relaxed. When she and Freddie found a spare table, she grabbed his hand, looking all around, taking in every detail.

“I can’t believe we actually have this,” she murmured.

“Me neither,” Freddie said. He smiled and squeezed her hand, lightly nodding his head in time to the music. He looked at her astonished face and grinned. “Want to dance, darling?”

She did. Laughing, she let him pull her onto the floor.

And sure enough, no one grabbed her. No one grabbed Freddie. There were no innuendos, no slurs. No pinching or slapping. She just got to dance and drink with her friend.

“Can we do this again?” she asked at the end of the night. They were waiting on Terry to pick them up, both of them shivering in their thin coats as they waited in the street.

“Of course,” Freddie said. 

Next time, she’d ask him to bring Phoebe too. Next time, she was sure she could convince at least _one_ of her friends to come, to give this a chance. What was so wrong with having their own space, really?

Nothing, she thought. Nothing at all.

She was just glad to have someone who well and truly _understood._

  
  
  
  
  
  


For years, Freddie had doted on the _Queen_ children and spoiled them rotten. He was one of the most indulgent babysitters alive, usually more than happy to mind their kids for a day, or a night.

For a long time, she hadn’t realised how badly _not_ having a child hurt him. She didn’t realise how much not having a relationship upset him. When she did, her heart clenched, because she couldn’t imagine not having her babies, not having John.

She was delighted for him when he finally fell pregnant- and she nearly fainted when John told her how wrong the birth went. _God,_ they’d been so close to losing him entirely. It was terrifying. She came so close to having to tell the kids that, no, Uncle Freddie couldn’t look after them today, he couldn’t come to see them anymore…

John didn’t want to bring the kids to the hospital, not until Freddie woke up, and she understood. It would likely only frighten them into fits to see Freddie, their lively bubbly Freddie, unconscious.

It frightened _her._ She was crying before she could stop herself, because he looked so _small,_ and far too pale. He had to pull through, he had to wake up soon, because Maeve needed him. That baby needed her papa.

They all needed him. Maybe more than they’d realised.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The hemorrhage meant a long recovery. Veronica worried as much as anyone, though perhaps not as much as Jim and Roger. Those two were in a league of their own.

But it was a good day, a month since Maeve’s birth and Freddie didn’t look quite so pale. He was still worn out, obviously. He moved slowly, still in pain, but he had more colour in his cheeks, and when he looked at Maeve he _glowed._ She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him so happy before. This even out-did his wedding.

“She’s beautiful,” Veronica said for the millionth time, beaming at the baby. She had a little pink headband on, sucking on her fist, cradled in Freddie’s arms.

“She is,” Freddie agreed proudly.

“Can I hold her?” Robert asked. He was well used to holding his little siblings. He sat next to Freddie, carefully holding Maeve, pulling faces at her.

Veronica took the opportunity to quietly ask, “You’re okay? Any pain?”

“Oh, no worse than usual,” Freddie said. “And if Jim says otherwise, he’s lying.”

“Always so stubborn,” Veronica laughed. She took his hand and squeezed it tightly. “Listen, Fred- if you need anything...Well, let me know, okay?” She shrugged, smiling wryly. “I have experience in this area.”

“Thanks, Ronnie.”

She was just relieved he was alright. She was happy to see him up and about- and she could have cried from joy alone to see him with Maeve.

It was one more thing they could laugh about: they could sit and complain about Alphas, they could laugh over how their husbands fussed. And now, they could both proudly compare notes on their children.

She thought that Phoebe had a point: sometimes, what you needed was some Omega time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think today of all days, we could use some fluff content, no?  
> Next up is either Elton or Brian! 💕


	6. Elton John: Your Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elton had been intrigued right away, by the little Omega with the big voice. Their friendship was tempestuous at times, but Freddie didn't leave him behind. Elton won't ever forget that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were some requests for Elton, so here we are! Hope you enjoy 💕

**_“Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean, yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen. And you can tell everybody this is your song. It may be quite simple, but now that it's done, I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words...How wonderful life is, while you're in the world.” -Your Song,_ ** **Elton John**

Elton had nagged John for months about meeting _Queen,_ his newest signing. As soon as John had announced that a new band had been brought to his attention, a band with an _Omega lead singer,_ he was immediately intrigued.

“Is he on suppressants?” Elton asked, idly playing the piano.

“No,” John said. In his shock, Elton stumbled on the next few keys.

_“What?”_

John shrugged, looking slightly baffled. “It’s a risky move,” he said. “Highly risky. But I have to admire his nerve.”

So did Elton. He wanted to meet this guy, this Freddie Mercury. When he heard one of their recordings, when he heard _Seven Seas of Rhye,_ he replayed it until John lost his temper and shouted at him. Elton upped the volume with a smirk. 

This Freddie guy could _sing._

So Elton nagged for months. John kept saying it would be _inappropriate_ to let his signings mix, which made no fucking sense to Elton. So he kept nagging. And nagging. He loudly played piano at odd hours, purposely off key, until John gave in.

“Fine!” he eventually barked, throwing his hands up. “Fine, you can meet them, now _shut up!_ ”

John brought Elton to one of Norman Sheffield’s parties with him to meet _Queen._ Much as Sheffield gave Elton the creeps, he had to admit that the man knew how to throw a party.

Across the room, Elton saw them. Brian May, tall and elegant; John Deacon looking around almost _warily,_ like he expected a fight to break out. Roger Taylor, strikingly handsome with his arm around Freddie Mercury’s waist. So. There was the infamous Omega. He was such a little thing, with long black hair. He pressed closer to Roger’s side whenever an executive came to talk to them...And Elton couldn’t blame him. It was like they were trying to look through Freddie’s clothes by sheer force of will. They only scarpered when they caught Roger’s furious eyes.

Huh. It had been hard enough to make it as a Beta in the music industry. People didn’t take him seriously, but there was none of _that._

Poor guy. Poor, brave guy.

The looks on their faces when John introduced them were priceless. John Deacon choked on his own breath, Brian kept nervously patting his curls, trying to arrange them into some semblance of order. Roger went pink, eyes wide, but he at least managed to chat like they were old friends. Elton had to admire it.

Freddie looked awe-struck, bless him. He bit his lip, his smile was shy, but when Elton said “I’ve been playing your album on repeat; you’ve got one hell of a voie,” he completely lit up, grinning, eyes bright.

“Thank you, darling,” he said, slightly breathless. “You too. Obviously.”

Grinning, Elton turned to John, his John, and demanded “Where have you been hiding him? He’s adorable.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Elton utterly adored him. Freddie was free-spirited, witty, with a wicked sense of humour. He took EMI’s and the media’s abuse with a smile, head held high, stubborn as all hell. He loved a party as much as Elton did: here was someone who didn’t tell Elton to tone it down, or calm down. Freddie would join Elton in shrieking in delight, jumping up and down. He laughed at Elton’s bitchy comments about the media; like Bernie he’d bluntly tell Elton when he’d crossed a line.

Elton dragged an all too-willing Freddie along on shopping trips, talking a mile a minute.

“What do you think?” Elton asked, holding up a glittery feather boa. “Could be good for a music video.”

“Could be good for a night out, Sharon, darling,” Freddie laughed, snatching the boa and flinging it around his own neck, striking a dramatic pose. “How do I look?”

“Fucking gorgeous, Melina,” Elton said, nudging him. “But you don’t need _me_ to tell you that, you’ve got Roger to stroke your ego, you lucky thing.”

Was it Elton’s imagination, or did Freddie’s laugh have a slightly nervous edge to it? “Oh, I suppose that’s true, lovie.” He quickly steered Elton towards the jewellery section. “Let’s find you some new earrings, hm?”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Freddie sat with Elton when he and John finally split. He took Elton’s high and drunken rages stoically, though he didn’t hesitate to fight back either. He implored Elton to take a break.

“We all need to rest sometimes,” Freddie said, tightly holding onto Elton’s hands. And then he said the words that so painfully brought Bernie to mind: “Elton, darling, it’s not weak to ask for help.”

“What would _you_ know!?” Elton exploded. He pulled away so harshly that Freddie stumbled back. “You’re an Omega, you _always_ need help!” High as he was, he still knew he’d crossed a line. Freddie’s face closed off, his lips pressed together in a thin line. But still, Elton raged, because he could handle himself _just fine._ He didn’t need his parents, or John, or Bernie, or Freddie, he didn’t need _anyone._ He could do this alone. He was _fine,_ it was everyone else that had the problem if you asked him. No one was there when he _really_ needed them, they couldn’t just flit in and out as it suited them.

_They don’t really care,_ part of him insisted. It sounded like John. Like his dad. _Not one of them. Even Bernie left. He betrayed you. So will Freddie. Maybe he already has, after all he’s on_ their _side._

He crossed a lot of lines that day, he could admit that. Elton didn’t need to tell him to fuck off that time. Freddie left.

Like Bernie, Freddie never quite gave up on him. Even when Elton pushed him away, even when Freddie stormed away in fury, Bernie later told him that Freddie still asked after him.

When he finally checked himself into rehab, Freddie visited. He was working on the songs Bernie had given him when Freddie all but tip-toed in. He suddenly looked like that shy kid that Elton had first met. 

“Hey, you,” Freddie said softly. Elton knew he must look a fright. He certainly _felt_ awful. But Freddie’s smile was as sweet and gentle as it ever was.

“Hi,” Elton said. He felt absurdly shy. Part of him wondered if Freddie was here to give him merry hell. If he was, Elton might just let him. He sure as fuck deserved it.

_No you don’t,_ a voice inside whispered. _Stop talking about yourself like that._ It sounded like Bernie.

Freddie’s face suddenly crumpled. “Oh, Sharon, darling,” he said, and he rushed across the room. The next thing Elton knew he was wrapped in Freddie’s arms. His friend held him tightly, and when Elton pressed his face against Freddie’s chest and burst into tears, Freddie let him. He didn't push him away.

“I’m sorry,” Elton gasped. “Fuck, Melina love, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Freddie said gently. “You’re alright.”

It once more struck Elton that Freddie was such a _parent_ sometimes. Forget the cat army, he ought to have a baby army. He wondered about that sometimes.

When he finally pulled back, he knew he looked even worse, tear-stained, red-faced, sniffling.

“Oh, _fuck,_ I’ve got snot all over your shirt,” Elton said with an embarrassed laugh.

“You can buy me a new one,” Freddie said with a teasing grin. He sat next to Elton on the piano bench. “Bernie tells me you’re working on some new ones?” He nodded to the sheets, and Elton tapped out a few notes.

_Don’t you know I’m still standing…_

“Fred?”

“Yes, darling?”

“I really am sorry. About everything I said.”

“I know,” Freddie said. Elton knew he’d have to work on this, just like everything else.

Worth it. He wanted Freddie to be his friend again.

“Thank you,” Elton said, summoning his courage. “For being my friend. I love you, you know that? I always will.”

At that, Freddie squeezed his hand. His smile was more relaxed, there was some light in his eyes. “I love you too, Elton.” He turned back to the piano. “So- can I hear what you’ve been working on?”

Grinning, Elton began to play. He sang softly at first, slowly gaining momentum.

_“You could never know what it's like. Your blood, like winter, freezes just like ice. And there’s a cold and lonely light that shines from you; you'll wind up like the wreck you hide behind that mask you use.”_

Freddie, with his keen ears, quickly picked up on the tune, and was soon joining in.

_“You know I'm still standing better than I ever did. Looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid. I'm still standing after all this time, picking up the pieces of my life without you on my mind!”_

At the end of the song, Elton was laughing. Sheer relief coursed through his veins, he felt unsteady with it, giddy with joy.

“I missed you,” he said. “So fucking much, my God.”

“I missed you too, you silly thing,” Freddie said. He flung an arm around Elton’s shoulder. “You’re a fucking drama queen, and I love you. Who else can I bitch with, hm?”

Elton leaned against him, letting Freddie’s familiar flowers-and-spices (and smoke-and-grass, courtesy of Jim) scent wash over him. “How’s Jim?” he asked, and Freddie lit up, grinning without hiding his teeth, gushing like he always did.

Elton was happy to sit and watch, to simply listen for a while, and bask in his friend’s presence. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


1987, and Freddie rang early one morning to say, “Elton, darling, could you come over today?”

“Of course,” Elton said. “Is everything okay?”

“Perfect,” Freddie chirped. He sounded so giddy, like he was trying to hold back laughter. “Something brilliant’s happened, and I think you should know before the press finds out.”

“Okay…?”

So Elton went to Garden Lodge, wondering what this was all about. What was so big that Freddie couldn’t tell him over the phone? What was important enough that the press would take notice? (Though to be fair, when it came to Freddie, they pounced on any little detail they could and exaggerated heaps.) Whatever it was, he didn’t think he’d heard Freddie sound so happy since he announced his engagement, since he first proudly showed Elton his bond mark.

Jim opened the front door, beaming, nearly vibrating with excitement- and then Freddie came flying out of the living room and flung himself into Elton’s arms.

The smell hit him right away. Such a soft, sweet smell, instantly recognisable. 

“You’re _pregnant!?_ ” Elton screamed. Giggling too hard to talk, Freddie nodded, still clinging to Elton like a little monkey.

“Oh my God,” Elton gasped. His eyes brimmed with tears. How long had Freddie wanted a baby? Far too long. “Oh my _God,_ Freddie, sweetheart!” He pulled back to grin at Freddie. “Congratulations, Melina.” Utterly sincere, he added “You’re going to be the best father in the world, I know it.” He turned to Jim and sternly wagged his finger. “And _you-_ you’d better be taking the _best_ care of him, understand me?”

“Cross my heart,” Jim said, doing just that.

“Oh, stop it, you know he does,” Freddie said. Elton knew he’d never seen Freddie glowing like this before. He looked so radiant, so unbelievably happy- but there was something anxious in his eyes.

When Jim was out of the room, Elton took Freddie’s hand.

“Alright, sweetheart, out with it: what’s wrong?” He offered what he _hoped_ was a reassuring smile. “Come on, tell your Auntie Sharon.”

“I don’t want to lose it,” Freddie admitted. His free hand rested on his stomach. “I- I don’t think I could do that again, darling.”

“You won’t have to,” Elton said firmly. So completely certain. “You won’t. It’ll all work out, you’ll see, and at the end of this I’ll have a baby to spoil.”

Freddie raised an eyebrow. “You mean _I’ll_ have a baby to spoil?”

Elton grinned mischievously, delighted when it made Freddie relax. “We’ll both spoil ‘em rotten,” he said. “It’ll be _fine,_ Freddie, I promise.”

Of course he couldn’t really promise that. No one could. But he did anyway, because if there was anything he could do at all to make this pregnancy go smoothly, he’d do it.

“You were there for me,” Elton said, holding Freddie’s worried gaze. “Let me look after you this time.”

To his relief, Freddie nodded. And maybe Freddie was just humouring him, because Elton knew he couldn’t banish all of Freddie’s fears and insecurities with one conversation- but damn it all, he’d be there for this, every step of the way. 

Freddie was his friend. His vivacious, funny friend, his cheeky little sweetheart, his Melina. 

And Freddie hadn’t left him behind, even when Elton had given him plenty of reason to. Elton wouldn’t leave him either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their conversation in rehab is partly based on the card attached to Elton's flowers at Freddie's funeral: "Thank you for being my friend. I'll love you always."


	7. Mary Austin: Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary was his first, albeit unofficial, stylist. Watching him transform was mesmerizing to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Mary content. I believe there was a request for the Biba scene in the movie to be addressed? Here's how it goes down in this 'verse.

**_“Mama told me not to waste my life. She said, ‘Spread your wings, my little butterfly. Don't let what they say keep you up at night. And they can't detain you, ‘cause wings are made to fly.’ And we don't let nobody bring us down. No matter what you say it won't hurt me. Don't matter if I fall from the sky; these wings are made to fly.” -Wings,_ ** **Little Mix**

She’d never heard singing like that before. 

Don’t get her wrong, she’d liked _Smile,_ she thought they were great, but she hadn’t exactly been devastated by their hiatus the way her friend Tracy had. Then again, Tracy was completely gone on Roger, so didn’t that explain things?

As soon as the girls got word that _Smile_ was back, Tracy dragged them to their next show at Ealing. Mary wondered just who they’d found to replace Tim Staffell so fast; she’d heard they had found a singer almost right away, it was finding a bass player that proved to be the issue.

Needless to say, she was shocked to realise their new singer was an Omega. She genuinely had to do a double take, she had to take a deep breath just to make totally sure. But she was right, he _was_ an Omega. Quite handsome if she was honest, with curling black hair and big brown eyes. He was fiddling with his bangles as he spoke with Roger. He kept shooting the growing crowd wary glances, and her heart went out to him.

She knew what kind of reception he could expect.

Sure enough, the poor thing only managed to say “Hello,” into the mic before there was yelling.

“Who’s the Omega Paki?” one Alpha demanded. Gina’s ex, Lewis. For God’s sake, some things never changed. He was still a racist and sexist pig. Good to know.

The Omega- Freddie, Brian had said, Freddie Bulsara- looked like he’d been slapped. He bit his lip, shooting Brian an upset look; he looked so tiny, anxious and oddly breakable. No one disagreed with Lewis, and Mary couldn’t bear it. She rounded on Lewis furiously.

“Stop it,” she hissed. Lewis glared at her.

“Fuck off,” he snarled. “You know I’m right, they shouldn’t have an Omega on stage.”

_He could be amazing,_ Mary thought. _We haven’t heard him yet._

And there was Lewis’s friend, Gerry joining in. “Yeah, where’s Tim!?” It started up a load of angry mutters. People grumbling about Omegas and where they belonged, people demanding Tim back. Some of them were booing already.

She expected Freddie to run off stage, God knew that was what she would have done. But instead, he held his head high. He had a stubborn clench to his jaw that she’d later come to know very well. Roger poked him on the back with a drumstick, saying something she couldn’t hear, but she could see Freddie smirk as he answered.

His singing really did blow her away. Everyone was suddenly dead silent, gawping. Even Lewis and Gerry looked thrown off.

Her heart broke for him when the mic stand broke. She once more fully expected him to flee, but to her confusion he _grinned._ She soon saw why: it was a lot easier to prance about if he only had to carry half a mic stand. His hips swayed as he banged his tambourine against them, his voice was loud and clear, and soon enough everyone was joining in with him, cheering when he winked at them. The entire front row was reaching for him, eyes bright.

_“All you people, keep yourself alive!”_

“Holy shit!” Gina cried. “They’re fantastic!”

_He’s fantastic,_ Mary wanted to correct her. She couldn’t bring herself to look away, she didn’t want to miss a moment. How could someone who’d looked so timid and small manage all this? How had he enchanted an entire room in moments? A room of people who most certainly hadn’t been on his side, at that.

One thing was for sure, she had to talk to him.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Good for Tracy, she finally worked up the nerve to approach Roger. She was part of a small group of girls surrounding him. She could see Brian by the bar with the new bassist, John. She couldn’t spot Freddie anywhere.

She half-wondered about asking Brian about him, when she spotted Freddie pressed into a corner by Lewis and Gerry.

What made her sick was that she wasn’t the only one who noticed. Plenty of people were glancing their way, but despite Freddie trying to push past, despite how furious he looked, no one moved to help.

She could have gotten Roger and Brian, but instead she marched over there herself.

“I told you, I’m not interested,” she heard Freddie snarl as she got closer. “Now fuck off.”

“Lighten up,” Lewis laughed. “We’re just trying to apologise. Isn’t that right, Ger?”

“That’s right.” Gerry reached out to stroke Freddie’s hair, but the Omega boy slapped his hand away, teeth bared in a snarl.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Listen here, you ungrateful little slu-”

“ _There_ you are!” Mary cried. Beaming, she pushed past the stunned Alphas and grabbed Freddie’s hand. “Sorry, the line for the ladies room was ridiculous. You ready to go?” She gave him a pointed look, minutely jerking her head towards his friends. She forced herself to keep smiling, praying he’d cop on and play along.

He did. He squeezed her hand, smiling. “Of course, darling,” he said, and she quickly ushered them both through the crowd. Both of them kept looking over their shoulders, expecting Lewis and Gerry to come tearing after them, but they didn’t.

As soon as the two Alphas were out of sight, Mary let Freddie’s hand go.

“God, I’m sorry, that was probably completely inappropriate,” she fussed. She must have looked like a loony, she thought. But Freddie was still smiling at her.

“Well, it worked didn’t it, darling?” He shrugged, twisting one of his bangles around his wrist. He suddenly looked all shy again, nothing like what he’d seemed on stage, and she was more intrigued than ever.

So she held her out and introduced herself. “I’m Mary Austin.”

He shook her hand, his bangles jingling. “Freddie Bulsara, darling.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


One thing they’d quickly discovered was that they both loved clothes, they both loved shopping. She often pushed her portfolio and college work at Freddie, fretting over her designs. He was honest, which she appreciated, and he knew what he was talking about. He loved bright colours, often quipping that she needed to put more yellow into her designs.

What confused her, therefore, was why his own wardrobe seemed so limited. His clothes were quite covering, modest even, and the colours were muted.

“I’m broke, darling,” he laughed when she asked. He was looking through one of her favourite fashion magazines, and she could see the envy in his eyes when he looked at the models. “Besides, blending in helped for a long time.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, curiosity burning in her chest. He never really talked about himself much.

He shrugged, his gaze lingering on a picture of a long red jacket. “I lived alone until recently,” he said, which was another shock. Omegas simply didn’t live alone. Ever. Exactly how brave _was_ he? She was more and more impressed.

“It was safer to blend into the crowd,” he said. “I found out quickly that if I stuck out, no one would help me.” He rolled his eyes. “Of course, looking like this doesn’t help, and with these stupid teeth I already stand out.”

“I like your teeth,” she said.

“Oh _please,_ Mary. You’re sweet, but let’s not be daft.”

“I mean it,” Mary said stubbornly. “I like how you look. You stand out, that’s a _good_ thing. You look lovely. You’re not Roger, _so what?_ You’re not white, who _cares?_ No one that matters cares.” An idea flashed to life, and she grinned. “Meet me at Biba after my shift tomorrow, okay?”

“Why?” he asked.

“You need stagewear to suit the personality,” she said. “Something flashy. If you’re going to be bouncing about like that, you need an outfit to go with it.”

He looked a little wary at first, but he smiled at her, carefully keeping his teeth hidden.

_I’ll show you,_ she thought. _I’ll prove it, you’ll see._

  
  
  
  
  
  


She was his first unofficial stylist.

He wandered into Biba as promised, looking quite lost. For once, he arrived early, five minutes before her shift ended. She saw him check the price of a red waistcoat, wince, and immediately put it back.

She kept the waistcoat in mind, but for now, she watched her friend. Yellow was his favourite colour, so she’d have to find something yellow. And with that skintone, it’d be a sin to not find something in red. Purple, gold, royal blue, white or silver maybe...Royal colours, rich colours, bright colours. Maybe some orange too, just a dash of it, something to catch the eye. 

She pranced over to him as soon as she clocked out. “You’re early for once,” she teased. He grinned at her, ducking his head. “Find anything, love?”

“A few things,” he said. He was standing in front of a rack of black pants, hands on his hips. “How much are these anyway, darling? I can’t find a price tag.”

She looked at the rack, and back to him. “Freddie, honey, this is the lady’s section.”

_“Oh.”_ He flushed red, taking a step back. “There wasn’t a sign or anything…”

“Well, I don’t think it matters,” she said. “Do you?”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. He seemed to be thinking about it. Finally, he shook his head, his hair falling in his eyes.

“Right then,” she said. That was settled. She grabbed his hand, dragging him towards a rack of bright silken shirts. He was such a skinny thing, she wasn’t quite sure of his size, so she grabbed the three smallest sizes she could find. The shirt was one of her favourites, a bold purple with a twisting gold pattern that looked like vines.

“We should all take more risks,” she said firmly. She pushed the shirts into his arms and grinned, pointing towards the dressing room. “Go on, I think it’ll make a real difference.” Laughing, she added, “I’m your stylist for today, you have to do what I say.”

He looked utterly baffled, but the second he actually _looked_ at the shirts, he weakened. Smiling shyly, he did what she said.

  
  
  
  
  
  


To be fair to him, he was infinitely patient with her. He’d wait in the changing room while she rushed around the shop, grabbing armfuls of clothes. She ignored her co-workers’ curious questions, snatching anything pretty she thought might suit him. It wasn’t just clothes, she grabbed accessories too: shoes, hats, sunglasses, scarves, necklaces, bracelets and rings.

For the most part, she stayed outside the tiny changing room itself. She leaned against the wall on the other side of the curtain, eagerly anticipating each time the curtain would open so she could see how he looked.

The first shirt, the purple one, was a huge success. It _did_ make a big difference. His skin almost seemed to glow, it made his eyes look even darker. She all but threw the black pants at him, the women’s ones, and they fit like a glove. Honestly, if she didn’t _know_ they were meant for women, she wouldn’t have guessed.

She found a gold medallion belt that he took one look at and fell in love with, all but snatching it out of her hands. It worked best with a white linen shirt; he laughed that he felt like a pirate.

“Pirates are sexy,” Mary said.

“In movies,” Freddie said, still laughing. But he looked at himself in the mirror and beamed. _Success!_ she thought. He already seemed to be standing taller, a bit more like he had on stage.

As he tried on an all black outfit with a thin red scarf, she thought of the waistcoat. Most of these could be everyday looks too, if she could just convince him of that fact: someone so bright and lively shouldn’t have to dress so _dull._ But that waistcoat, that was definitely for fancy occasions- or the stage.

“I’ve just one more thing to grab, darling,” she called through the curtain. It opened a little, and Freddie poked his head out. His hair was standing up at odd angles from struggling in and out of so many clothes.

“Darling, I think I’ve tried on everything in this shop by now,” he said.

“Not everything,” she said brightly. His eyes narrowed.

“I’m not wearing anything see-through, darling.”

“Not _yet,_ ” Mary said. She winked at him and hurried away.

“Blimey, you’re _still_ here?” one of her co-workers, Melissa said, laughing. “Hasn’t that Omega worn you out yet?”

“Actually, he’s the one humouring me,” Mary said, nose in the air. She grabbed the waistcoat and went back to the changing room.

No one else was around when she got there. If she was honest, she didn’t think about it. She just pushed the curtain open and walked in.

_“Mary!”_ Freddie yelped. He’d tugged his shirt off, and now he held it to his chest like a protective barrier. “What are you- are you even _allowed_ in here?”

“Not really,” she said cheerfully. She held up the waistcoat. “But you’ll need help getting into this one. I saw you looking at this when you came in. Want to try it?”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t possibly afford that,” he said.

“I’ve an employee’s discount,” she said, but he shook his head again, lips pressed together, that stubborn clench to his jaw making an appearance.

“I’m not letting you buy that for me,” he said. She raised an eyebrow, looking at the piles and piles of clothes.

“Or _any_ of them,” he added sternly. “I’ll just buy what I can afford for now.”

“Oh, Freddie honey, _please,_ ” she said. She knew full well he could afford only one shirt, maybe two if he picked any of the sales items. She thought of how he’d lit up over the medallion belt, she thought of how happy he’d been all day, giggling with her, glowing with confidence. She didn’t want to see him drooping as he was forced to put them all back, or walk out with nothing. 

“You pay for what you can,” she said. “And I’ll get the rest. Like I said, employee discount.” Thinking fast, she said, “I really _could_ be your stylist if you want. You wouldn’t even have to pay me really, you could just get me into the shows for free!”

He looked tempted, all too tempted. She batted her eyelashes, smiling sweetly.

“Please,” she said. “Fred, you shouldn’t have to be frightened about standing out. Look at what you’re like on stage! The whole room belongs to you- it should _all_ the time.”

He was so quiet and still that she expected a firm refusal. But he once more surprised her: he dropped the shirt he was holding and pulled the white one back on, grinning at her.

“Deal,” he said. He looked at the waistcoat, tilting his head like a little bird, and she grinned, nearly squealing in excitement as she helped him into it.

It was a funny little waistcoat really; the label said in big block letters _FOR OMEGAS._ They didn’t have much of an Omega section, but she was glad they had one at all. It gave her some variety to work with.

The little jet-black buttons at the front were just for show, they didn’t open: instead, it laced up at the back like a corset. It was longer at the back too, falling in (surprisingly elegant) folds just above Freddie’s knees. The ruby red colour set off his skin, hair and eyes to perfection. The delicate floral pattern was picked out in black lace, so tiny that you had to be standing next to him to tell it was a floral pattern at all. 

He gasped as she laced it too tight.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said hurriedly, loosening the ties. Finally, she finished, closing it with a neat little bow. The shirt wasn’t quite right, too loose and billowing for the waistcoat, but the actual waistcoat itself…

“You look brilliant!” she squealed, squeezing his shoulders. “Oh, wait!” She fumbled with her purse, pulling her eyeliner out, and holding it up triumphantly.

“May I?”

He nodded, closing his eyes with a shy smile. 

It was just a touch of eyeliner, but he looked so different when she was done. He had beautiful eyes to begin with, but they looked bigger now, bolder, impossible to look away from. Grinning, she turned him to face the mirror.

“It’ll look better with a different shirt,” she said. “But other than that...You really do look wonderful, sweetie.”

With a cheeky little smile, he suggested, “Or no shirt.”

She laughed, mostly from surprise, but also from pride. _That’s my boy. Now you’re getting it. You’re beautiful, you silly thing. Embrace it._

“Or no shirt,” she agreed. “You’ll drive everyone wild.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


So started their deal: she was his unofficial stylist. She was who he went to when he had a fashion dilemma. When he couldn’t decide on stagewear, he went to her. She helped with his eyeliner until he figured it out for himself. Sometimes he’d let her do his hair, but only rarely.

In return, she got front-row seats to every show, for free. In the early days, the days of pubs and uni shows, the _Queen_ boys picked her up in their van so she arrived with them, quickly able to claim the best spot. Down the line, she got to proudly say that it was her once her job to dress Freddie Mercury. Sometimes he still came running to her when he was really stuck.

It was always mesmerizing to watch her best friend on stage. One minute, he was shy and quiet. The next, he was magnetic, able to put even the rowdiest of crowds under his spell.

_That’s my boy,_ she thought proudly. 

And then, one day, he called her early in the morning, shrieking in excitement.

“ _Mary!_ Mary, darling, we’re going to be on the BBC! _Killer Queen’s_ reached the charts! You’ll come won’t you?”

She could have cried. She’d never heard him sound so happy, so excited. The BBC! _Top Of The Pops!_ Her Freddie was going to be on Top Of The Pops!

“Of course I’ll be there,” she said, bouncing in her seat. “Who else is going to dress a fuss-pot like you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, I'm thinking we'll have a Brian chapter! ❤ As always, if there's anyone you want to see ASAP (or a particular scenario for a particular character) feel free to let me know!  
> The only people I won't write about in this story are Ray Foster, Norman Sheffield and Paul Prenter- basically, the people that hate/don't care about Freddie. Otherwise, go nuts!


	8. Brian May: Soul Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian's never been the type of snarl and punch, but that doesn't mean he can't look after Freddie in his own way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one isn't as linear as the others: it starts with "Hot Space" then jumps back to 1980, then forward to 1987. But here we are: Brimi being a damn good friend.

**_“He's my soul brother. He's my best friend, he's my champion; and he will rock you, rock you, rock you, because he's the saviour of the universe. He can make you keep yourself alive, make yourself alive. Ooh, brother, ‘cause he's somebody, somebody you can love. He's my soul brother.” -Soul Brother,_ ** **Queen**

“What do you think, darling?” Freddie asked with a beaming smile. He had that old shy look in his eyes, a look Brian hadn’t seen in years.

He’d just finished playing  _ Soul Brother,  _ a song he’d apparently been working on the last few days. To top it all off, Brian held a tape in his hands, a tape of all his guitar solos that Freddie had spent all night on, because “I want you to hear them the way I do, darling.”

_ Hot Space  _ was proving to be a hot  _ mess.  _ The fights just kept escalating, and Brian had been utterly fucking  _ miserable.  _ It felt like his friends didn’t need him, like he was losing his place in the band, in his  _ pack.  _

_ Back Chat  _ had been a slap to the face.

And now this. This song, this beautiful, heart-warming song that Freddie had written for  _ him.  _

The longer he stayed quiet, the more nervous Freddie seemed. His smile slowly vanished.

“Brimi?”

At that, at the old nickname, Brian was snapped back to life. He felt like crying. Instead, he flung his arms around Freddie, holding on tight, doing his damn best to stay composed.

That resolution crumbled when Freddie hugged him and murmured, “I’m sorry, love.”

Anyone else would have laughed at Brian, and told him to toughen up. To act like an Alpha. Anyone else would have told him to  _ order  _ Freddie to apologise and  _ ‘put him in his place,’  _ to destroy the tapes of  _ Back Chat  _ and put Deacy in his place too.

But it was just him and Freddie, it was safe, it was  _ home  _ right here in Freddie’s arms. So Brian clung to him, the most relaxed he’d been in weeks.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was pretty clear to everyone that Roger was the chief Alpha of the group. He did the snarling and growling; he fought people off and loudly defended everyone. Brian...Well, he knew he had his moments. Moments when his temper exploded, but the only person he’d ever really  _ fought  _ was Roger.

(He was still a bit pissed about that hairspray-in-the-eye incident.)

Brian was the “clever one.” He was the problem solver. He was the rational, scientific one. The thinker. The designated Mum Friend. Throwing fists and breaking noses had never been his style.

That didn’t stop him from bristling when Freddie, giddy as a schoolgirl, happily announced that he had a  _ boyfriend,  _ and his name was  _ Jim. _

The thing was, Freddie...Had a pretty crap track-record when it came to men. A lot of them just wanted his money, or they wanted to brag that they’d shagged  _ the  _ Freddie Mercury. They wanted to be seen with him, they wanted the second-hand fame.

Then there was the other kind. The kind that thought Omegas shouldn’t be on stage to begin with. The kind that thought they could  _ tame  _ Freddie, who thought his fight for equality was some sort of act or joke. They thought that they could convince Freddie to stay home and push out babies for them. They shouted and threatened and- in some horrible, terrifying cases- they hit.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Right after David, Freddie had had a boyfriend, an obvious rebound named Miles. He was handsome in the typical Alpha way: tall, broad, oozing charm and confidence. 

“It’s just some fun,” Freddie said dismissively when Brian asked. His nose wrinkled, he shrugged. “He’s  _ alright,  _ just…”

“Rebound?” Brian had asked, bluntly.

Freddie nodded. “Rebound,” he admitted.

That  _ rebound  _ didn’t take the break-up well. Freddie called Brian in tears, and Brian may or may not have gone over the speed limit on his way to Freddie’s. Freddie answered the door, still in tears, with a cut on one cheek and a large bruise on the other. His shirt collar was ripped and Brian could see a bruise on his collar bone, he could see angry red marks circling Freddie’s wrists.

“Don’t tell Roggie,” Freddie pleaded, as Brian cleaned him up. Brian growled, struggling with himself. Every instinct screamed at him to hunt Miles down and rip his head off.  _ “Darling!” _ Freddie held Brian’s face in his hands. “Don’t tell Roggie,  _ please, _ Brimi, he’ll kill him!”

“ _ I’ll  _ kill him!” Brian growled. 

But he looked at Freddie’s tear-stained face, his frightened eyes- and he knew Freddie was right. Roger would beat Miles within an inch of his life, and everyone knew Freddie and Roger were “broken up.” He had no legal right to harm Miles: he’d be arrested, and then where would they be?

That didn’t stop him from finding Miles himself. He knew where Miles worked, he knew what his car looked like.

He put rocks right through the windows. A voice in his head that sounded worryingly like Roger screamed at him to slash the bastard’s tyres. He barely managed to hold back.

It wasn’t often that he gave into his instincts, but the fucker had hurt  _ Freddie,  _ he’d hit  _ his  _ Freddie, Brian’s Freddie. He had no  _ right. _

A few smashed windows were nothing.

  
  
  
  
  
  


So no, Brian wasn’t impressed when Freddie started gushing about this unknown Jim. None of them were. Deacy held his bass like a lifeline, wary, eyes narrowed. Roger was already frowning, arms folded. Knowing him, he was already rehearsing his threats.

He listened as Freddie told them that Jim was a hairdresser, he was from Ireland, he was an Alpha and so tall, so handsome and so  _ so  _ kind, he loved cats too, and-

“Wait. Hutton. That guy you met in the club two weeks ago?” Roger asked, scowling.

Freddie nodded happily, apparently oblivious to the mood in the room. Brian and Roger exchanged unimpressed glances. A club. Nothing good ever came from the guys Freddie met at clubs.

“That’s nice,” Deacy said, still wary. Freddie started rambling again, bouncing about, clearly besotted. Brian couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Freddie so genuinely  _ gone  _ on someone. Maybe with Joe. Maybe  _ never  _ if he was totally honest. Not like  _ this.  _

Sometimes, Brian thought that  _ White Queen  _ suited Freddie well:  _ “Stars of lovingness in her hair. Needing, unheard. Pleading, one word. So sad, my eyes.”  _ Because Freddie loved so  _ much.  _ Once you were in his heart, it was hard to lose your place there. Getting past his walls was a task and a half, a battle in itself, and well worth it. He could be such an enigma, mysterious and brooding, or laughing and flirting to high heaven, or shy and sweet. But no matter what, he  _ loved.  _ If you were in, he’d look after you or drive himself mad trying.

It was hardly Freddie’s fault that people took advantage of that. 

Brian was so sick of seeing him get hurt. He had to sit and watch as the press called him all sorts of names and slurs, he had to listen to people insist that Freddie was the band’s  _ toy.  _ He had to watch people treat Freddie like an object, not a human.

He’d seen it all, time and time again. He’d seen Freddie cry, he’d seen him cover bruises, he’d seen him rage, he’d seen Freddie pretend it didn’t bother him, that it never bothered him.

He wouldn’t let it happen again. Not this time.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Meeting Jim was a shock. He was nearly as tall as Brian, quite chubby, with a moustache and neatly trimmed hair. Well, he  _ was  _ a hairdresser, no surprises there. No, the shock was how he treated Freddie.

Jim held doors open for him, he pulled chairs out for him, he helped Freddie in and out of his jacket. He held Freddie’s hand almost cautiously, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to do it.

But Brian had seen that too. The gentlemanly act. The awe-struck act. It never lasted long.

But it wasn’t an act this time. Jim watched Freddie with a smile, eyes shining, looking as besotted as Freddie was. He genuinely  _ hadn’t  _ realised who Freddie was when they met. Brian was admittedly a little insulted on Freddie’s behalf- how could you  _ not  _ know Freddie?- and yet...And yet that meant Jim was  _ genuine.  _ It wasn’t about money.

Jim looked at Freddie like he was priceless, like he wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up here, but was far too happy to question it.

Slowly, perhaps a little reluctantly, Brian began to relax.

_ You look after him,  _ he thought.  _ He deserves the best. _

  
  
  
  
  
  


Admittedly, they  _ all  _ gave Jim some version of a shovel talk. Even Miami frowned and made pointed comments.

“Freddie really cares about you,” Brian said soon after they met. Jim had come along to the studio, and he sat with Brian while Roger and Freddie giggled together over some in-progress lyrics on the other side of the room under Deacy’s watchful eyes.

Jim looked at Freddie and immediately softened. “I really care about him too,” he said shyly. “He’s...He’s amazing.”

“He is,” Brian said, a little more sternly than he’d intended. But fuck it, he’d started, he may as well finish. “Look after him.”

“I will,” Jim said, but Brian cut over him.

“I mean it. Look after him. He deserves the best of the best. You’d have to be insane to let him go, and a lot of people have. You’ve no idea yet, and it’s not my place to say, but he’s had a crap track record with men. With people. With Alphas in particular.” His eyes narrowed. “And Roger isn’t the only one who can throw a punch, Jim. You seem nice. I like you. But if you hurt him, or make him cry,  _ I’ll end you.  _ Understand?”

To do him credit, Jim met his eyes calmly and nodded. “I wouldn’t expect any less,” he said.

Brian gave a brisk nod and glanced away.

“For the record, his favourite flowers are yellow freesias. Just so you know.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Jim smile. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


After Maeve was born, it took four months for Freddie to feel like himself again, and even then he was under strict orders to take it easy. No recording. No strenuous activities.

“No sex,” Freddie said mournfully, and Jim choked.

“Freddie, they don’t need to know that!”

“We really don’t,” Deacy said, wincing. Roger was cackling. Mary buried her face in her hands. Brian looked at Maeve, safely cradled in Freddie’s arms and solemnly told her “Your Papa’s insane, sweetheart.”

Phoebe looked entirely fed up with life. Joe, ever the helpful one said, “You can still have some fun though,” with a wink. 

Freddie, looking thoughtful (and not a little hopeful) turned to Jim. Jim’s eyes narrowed.

_ “No.” _

“You’re no fun,” Freddie huffed. “I gave birth to your daughter, and how do you repay me? With no sex!”

“It’s doctor’s orders, Fred,” Jim said tiredly.

“And we  _ really  _ don’t need to hear it,” Deacy said. He was starting to look a little green. Mary patted him on the back in solidarity.

“Tone it down, boys, we’ve innocent ears here.”

Freddie covered Maeve’s ears with a pointed smirk. 

“I’ll leave,” Deacy threatened. Freddie miraculously decided to behave.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The funny thing was, Freddie was still reluctant to feed Maeve in front of them. According to Jim, Freddie even fussed if Jim was in the room. 

As soon as Maeve started fussing, Freddie took her from Jim and left the room.

“Some people are shyer about it,” Mary said, unphased. Well, they all had experience with this. Chrissie had preferred to pump though, and Veronica had gotten over her shyness in two weeks- by her own words, she was “too bloody tired” to care about breast-feeding in front of her friends. Dominique had never cared, and often pumped anyway, depending on her mood.

A little part of Brian wondered if this was one more thing Freddie’s parents had shoved down his throat. Another part of him supposed it was just  _ Freddie,  _ just his shyness coming through.

When he went to the bathroom, he passed the living room; the door was half-open, and he could see Freddie with Maeve. Freddie yawned, clearly worn out, but he was all but glowing in contentment, his eyes shining whenever he looked at Maeve, and the little madam herself was finally quiet, one hand lightly slapping at Freddie’s chest. She’d gotten so big, and he almost couldn’t believe it had been four months.

Instantly, he was hit hard by just how much he loved Freddie, because if he was honest, how close they came to losing him still terrified Brian senseless. 

As Freddie gently pulled Maeve back to burp her, Brian poked his head around the door.

“Fred?”

Instantly, Freddie tensed, harshly yanking his shirt back down. Maeve dribbled, lightly giggling as Freddie continued to pat her back.

“ _ Brimi!  _ Don’t you ever  _ knock? _ ”

“I’ve seen more,” Brian reminded him. Freddie stuck his tongue out. Maeve copied him. She looked delighted with herself when Brian grinned at her. Freddie just rolled his eyes, still patting her back until she burped. Instantly, she started to giggle at herself, and Freddie noticeably softened.

“Is everything okay?” Freddie asked. 

“Yeah, just- bathroom.” Brian shrugged, biting his lip. “Fred, I...Look, sorry if this sounds daft, but...Are you worried we’ll laugh at you or something?”

“Pardon?”

Brian gestured to Maeve, and Freddie seemed to curl in on himself.

“Oh. I- no, not really. I just...Oh, I don’t know, darling. Maybe. It just seems so  _ private,  _ and I know it looks a little funny-”

“No it doesn’t,” Brian said gently. “Not at all.”

Freddie didn’t really look like he believed him. Brian sighed, folding his arms.

“Freddie, you look  _ happy.  _ You’re just feeding your baby, there’s nothing wrong with that. You’re at  _ home.  _ And it’s us- we’d never laugh or stare, you know that.”

“I know,” Freddie said quietly. Maeve gurgled, kicking and wriggling. Freddie laughed at her, holding her tighter, and she buried her face in his chest, happy as could be.

“You’re brilliant with her,” Brian said fondly.

“I’ve no idea what I’m doing, darling,” Freddie said with his old shy smile.

“Yeah? None of us did. None of us  _ do. _ ” Being a parent wasn’t easy. It was the best and scariest thing Brian had ever done, no contest.

“So long as we remember which end the nappy goes on, we’re fine,” Freddie said, quoting Roger, which set them both off laughing. Maeve joined in, which only made Brian laugh harder.

As he went to find the bathroom, Freddie rejoined the others. And maybe he was thinking about what Brian said, or maybe like Veronica he was too simply too tired to keep worrying: either way, when Maeve next cried to be fed, Freddie didn’t leave the room.

Jim looked surprised, but thankfully everyone had the good sense to not comment. Roger just kept chatting to Freddie, lounging in his seat.

Brian caught Freddie’s eyes and smiled.  _ Okay?  _ he mouthed. Freddie nodded, smiling, lightly stroking Maeve’s hair.

They’d be okay, Brian had no doubt of that.

That didn’t stop him from joining Jim and Roger in fussing when Freddie offered to help carry the plates.

No, he wasn’t the typical Alpha, always ready to jump into fights, snarling and growling.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t look after his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brian is the mom friend, you'll never stop him from fussing.


	9. Jim Hutton: Never Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Proposing was more stressful than Jim had anticipated, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found a damn perfect ring for Freddie at long last! 💗

**_  
_ **

**_"_** ** _I will never stop trying, I will never stop watching as you leave; I will never stop losing my breath every time I see you looking back at me. I will never stop holding your hand, I will never stop opening your door. I will never stop choosing you, babe. I will never get used to you.” -Never Stop,_ ** **Safetysuit**

Jim never expected to be here. He’d expected a quiet life, a relationship like his parents’ perhaps: quiet, but affectionate. Safe. Steady. He’d never really been fussed on if he ended up with an Omega, Beta or Alpha. He just knew he wanted to actually be _in love_ with someone. Someone who loved him back. That was what mattered.

Instead of _quiet,_ he ended up with a beautiful rockstar; a dramatic, almost childishly innocent at times, stubborn little _diva_ of a man with a heart of gold. Freddie Mercury, with his angelic singing voice and big brown eyes.

Jim certainly hadn’t expected to meet the love of his life at a club, but there you go. And he hadn’t expected to fall so hard, so fast. He’d been wary, he could admit that. Dating a famous person? That meant he’d be dragged into the media too, he knew that. He hadn’t wanted that.

But Freddie was more than worth it.

He was utterly unlike anyone else Jim had ever met, and he still couldn’t believe that Freddie had wanted _him._ He wanted plain old Jim Hutton the hairdresser. He could have had anyone.

He thought of Freddie’s pack’s suspicions. He remembered Freddie finally opening up about everything he’d been through, and wondered if maybe Freddie had just wanted something safe too.

  
  
  
  
  
  


In the weeks leading up to the proposal, Jim fretted. He’d had to take one of Freddie’s rings and try it on every one of his fingers to find the right size. Freddie’s ring only fit Jim’s little finger, and he kept that in mind; if he simply took the ring with him, he knew Freddie would notice and pitch a fit about the maids or a guest stealing again.

Then there was the issue with actually _finding_ a ring. None of them seemed good enough. The sapphires all suddenly seemed tacky, the diamonds seemed too typical; the emeralds, rubies, none of them were _right._ He never thought it’d be so hard to pick an engagement ring. Besides, he _knew_ Freddie’s taste, that should make things easier. Instead, he found himself second-guessing everything. Nothing was beautiful enough. He wondered about following Phoebe’s suggestion about a custom-made ring, but he couldn’t seem to come up with a single design.

Should he pick a ring with engravings? No engravings? How many jewels should it have? Should they be big or small? Old fashioned or modern? Simple or flashy?

Eventually, he found one. It was a simple but elegant white-gold ring; there were two tiny, twisting rows of diamonds on either side of the bigger, circular diamond, “the main attraction” as Joe put it.

It wasn’t too flashy or big, it didn’t look horribly out-dated, it wasn’t dull. It was beautiful. Jim took one look at it, and could easily picture Freddie wearing it.

Always assuming he said yes, of course. That was one more thing to worry about.

But for now, Jim pushed his worries aside and bought the ring.

  
  
  
  
  
  


He had to pat himself on the back: Freddie didn’t seem to have noticed anything amiss.

The morning of the proposal, Jim woke early, with Freddie still fast asleep, cradled in his arms. They’d ended up spooning as usual, and Jim traced a lazy finger over the back of Freddie’s hand, lightly playing with his fingers, marvelling at the difference between them: Freddie had such small, delicate hands, long fingers made for playing piano. By contrast, Jim’s suddenly seemed so large and clumsy.

He didn’t realise Freddie had woken up until he asked, “What are you doing?” with a sleepy little giggle.

“Nothing,” Jim said, smiling. He linked their fingers and leaned over to kiss Freddie’s cheek. “Good morning.”

Freddie twisted around to smile at him, eyes still sleepy; he pressed back against Jim’s chest, eyes drifting closed again. “Morning,” he mumbled.

“Do you plan on getting up at all?” Jim asked, teasing. It was routine, he knew what the answer would be. Sure enough, Freddie shook his head, whining in protest when Jim got up.

“It’s too early,” he said, eyes still closed.

“I’ll bring you some tea,” Jim said, swooping down to kiss his forehead. He was hyper-aware of the ring, hidden in his chest of drawers. “Be right back.”

Freddie whined again, rolling over to bury his face in the pillow.

  
  
  
  
  
  


His heart was pounding as he proposed. He knew that Freddie, for all his flamboyant stage act, wouldn’t appreciate a huge public spectacle. He liked his privacy, especially when it came to such intimate matters.

But when Freddie flung himself into Jim’s arms, all but glowing in delight, he finally let himself relax. He felt sudden laughter bubbling in his chest, utter glee taking over. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Freddie had said _yes._

They were engaged. _They were engaged!_

And then they bonded.

It felt like a dream, because surely this was too good to be true? He was dreaming; someone would come along any moment now, and wake him up. 

But no one woke him up. He wasn’t dreaming. Somehow, unbelievably, he was engaged to Freddie Mercury. By some miracle, Freddie let Jim bite a bond mark into his neck; his thin legs wrapped around Jim’s waist, his hands scratched down’s Jim’s back, and Jim just couldn’t believe this was real. How had he ended up here? How had he ended up with such an amazing, beautiful Omega? How was _this_ his life?

He wouldn’t question it anymore. Why question such a gift?

As they waited for the knot to go down, Freddie smiled, dazed and stunning, utterly ethereal to Jim’s eyes.

“I love you,” Freddie told him. Grinning, Jim kissed him, his thumb running over the engagement ring.

“I love you too.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


He couldn’t stop touching the bond mark. Every time he did, Freddie shivered, laughed, and slapped his hand away.

“Stop that,” he said, yawning. 

“Does it hurt?” Jim asked, concerned.

“Not really,” Freddie said, curling up against Jim’s side, humming happily when Jim held him close. “It’s just sensitive.”

“You smell different.”

Freddie laughed at him. “Well _yes,_ I _would._ That’s rather the point, darling.” He peered up at him, his hair falling into his eyes, curling at the ends. “That’s okay, isn’t it?”

“It’s perfect,” Jim told him. He kissed Freddie’s forehead, and he knew he sounded like a sap. He felt like one. A lot of his friends would laugh at him, but what did Jim care? He was _happy._ He was happier than he’d ever been, thanks to Freddie, thanks to this wonderful, utter sweetheart of a man in his arms.

“Love you, honey,” Jim said quietly. Freddie beamed like he always did; he never got tired of hearing it, often asking Jim multiple times a day if he loved him. The answer was always the same, _“Yes, I love you, honey.”_

“I love you too, Jim.”

Once, all Jim had wanted was some peace and quiet. Nothing too exciting. Once, he’d felt too awkward, too shy to openly show affection, let alone say it. 

Funny how Freddie changed that.

But that was Freddie for you. He changed a lot of things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jim is for sure getting another chapter (or two); he has a lot to say.


	10. Bomi Bulsara: Guiltless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're too very different men who aspire to very different things. That doesn't mean Bomi doesn't love him. But it did take some harsh lessons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending of this chapter is actually a sneak-peek at a planned scene for the finale 😅 Bomi's POV hard to write, I've never actually done it before, but it was surprisingly fun to try and get into his head.
> 
> Warnings for discussion of physical abuse and honour killings (although not from Bomi).

**_“There is a wall in my life built by you. You opened a door that a kid shouldn't walk through. Oh, but I'm not bitter, I'm just tired; no use getting angry at the way that you're wired. Ignorant trauma in one afternoon. And I could never let you know, you’d never get it. And now I’m the one who can’t let go, oh, don’t say it’s genetic.” -Guiltless,_ ** **Dodie Clark**

Farrokh never seemed to grasp how an Omega should act. Bomi thought of his old classmates, his neighbours; they’d all been soft-spoken, modest, obedient. His son...Very much so wasn’t.

He hadn’t expected an Omega. Farrokh was so damnably stubborn, Bomi had expected him to be an Alpha like himself, or a Beta like his mother. Besides, when was the last time an Omega had been born into the Bulsara family? Probably Bomi’s great-grandmother. Bomi didn’t know of any other recent ones.

It had been a shock.

Truthfully, Bomi had been horrified with himself- he’d sent his _Omega son_ to _boxing lessons!_ God, if it had been obvious from childhood he never would have sent Farrokh to those lessons. They were utterly inappropriate. 

Omegas were delicate. Fragile. They needed a guiding hand, they needed looking-after. They were naive, gentle; they needed to be led away from sin, and kept safe and pure.

It was the way of things. Bomi never questioned it.

Farrokh did. Frequently and loudly. Angrily. He simply refused to see reason.

It wasn’t until Farrokh, tiny, delicate (only, he wasn’t delicate at all) Farrokh, disappeared in the night, that Bomi finally started to question things.

  
  
  
  
  
  


He didn’t let anyone see him cry, not even Jer. He had to be his wife’s rock, he had to be strong, he had to be there for her. Kashmira refused any comfort from either of them: she screamed at them that it was all their fault. She raged, and cried, and shouted that she hated them.

Bomi wasn’t surprised when she presented as an Alpha.

The family’s reputation was in tatters, and his relationship with his own parents had been damaged beyond repair, after his father destroyed Farrokh’s only letter before they could read it. There hadn’t been any other letters. Their only link to their child was gone, thanks to his father.

Farrokh was gone. But maybe that was Bomi’s fault too.

Wherever he went, people averted their gazes. They lowered their voices, and spoke about Farrokh as if he was dead and buried. That, or they avoided the topic entirely. They avoided the Bulsaras as if they had the plague, as if disobedient children was some horrible, contagious illness; as if, by close proximity, their own Omegas might run off too.

That, or they outright insulted his son, his boy. Worst of all, was how many of them thought an honour killing was in order.

Worst of all, was the sickening knowledge that many of Bomi’s own family members felt the same way.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” one of the women at work said. Her eyes even filled with tears. You would have sworn Farrokh was dead.

Bomi didn’t have the heart, nor the conviction, to insist that his son would come home. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

And then he heard two fellow Alphas talking over lunch, malicious, so certain of themselves and their words, saying things that made Bomi want to vomit.

“If it was my son he wouldn’t live to regret it.” That was Hondo, who sat two desks away from Bomi, scoffing and rolling his eyes. “I don’t understand how one Omega could have gotten so far on his own. I’ll bet you anything the little whore’s run off with someone.”

“Omegas like that need a good beating,” Parviz added, eyes narrowed. He was one of the secretaries, and Bomi had always liked him. Until now. “The ingratitude! If I were Bomi, that Omega wouldn’t be able to walk by the time I was through with him. He’d crawl down that aisle and count himself lucky.”

“Forget that,” Hondo said. “I’d kill him.”

At that, Bomi snapped. He punched the wall so hard the painting above him shook. The whole canteen stopped to stare.

Slowly, Bomi got to his feet, eyes narrowed on Hondo and Parviz.

They had the sense to look frightened.

“Oh, come now, Bomi my friend, you know I’m right,” Parviz said. “No offence to you, of course, the boy’s always been a bad egg- a sound beating is what he needs. That’s the only way Omegas learn. They need discipline.”

Hondo didn’t seem at all apologetic. Bomi was suddenly very worried for Hondo’s own son, an Omega only a little younger than Farrokh. 

He marched over, never breaking eye contact. Without a word, and with the whole canteen watching, Bomi punched Hondo in the face.

  
  
  
  
  
  


He was suspended for a week, albeit with pay.

“You need time to grieve,” his boss said. “I understand this is a sensitive time.”

_My son’s not dead!_ Bomi wanted to scream. _He’ll come home._

But _would_ he?

Tired, bruised, and worried about how he’d explain all this to Jer, Bomi merely nodded and agreed.

  
  
  
  
  
  


He remembered Farrokh, five years old and so tiny, happily showing him his latest drawing. He remembered Farrokh proudly showing what he’d learned in his boxing classes. He remembered Farrokh clinging to Jer, before he was pulled onto the ship that would take him to India for the first time.

He remembered Farrokh asking again and again to come home. He remembered his son’s disappointment, especially during the summer holidays, when the answer was “Maybe next year.” He remembered how Farrokh’s letters only seemed to get shorter and shorter; he remembered how Farrokh stopped asking to come home.

And then, when he presented, they kept him home. He remembered the surprised happiness in Farrokh’s eyes, the timid hope- only for that light to go out when he was sent to the Omega school down the road. He remembered his son complaining that there were no real lessons; they were taught art, they were taught music and how to sew- all things that Farrokh was good at, excelled at even, but suddenly his reading material was highly limited to the classic romances, moral tales and studies in decorum. How to seem attractive to an Alpha, to be the perfect Omega; a jewel that any Alpha would prize.

No geography, only the history that Omegas needed to know. Absolutely no mathematics or sciences. No sports, for fear of them hurting themselves. After all, Omegas were built differently from the rest of them: too much studying would simply tax them, wear them out. No need to stress them.

“Our teacher wants to start _flower_ arranging,” thirteen-year-old Farrokh said impatiently. 

“You like flowers, baby,” Jer said cheerfully.

“And we have to _kneel_ all the time.”

“As is proper,” Bomi said, nodding approvingly. 

Eventually, Farrokh stormed to his room in a huff, slamming the door and ignoring when Bomi shouted at him.

Perhaps, Bomi would later think, it was no wonder Farrokh ran. After all, they’d never fought to keep him.

  
  
  
  
  
  


They were as different as two men could be. Totally different personalities, totally different views of the world, totally different _standings._ It would take a long time for Bomi to acknowledge he came from a place of supreme privilege, and Farrokh didn’t.

One such awakening, came in the form of the growing revolution. Even then, Bomi found himself wondering about his son. Where was he? Was he safe? Was anyone looking after him?

Was he alive?

Suddenly, Bomi was not the well-respected man he’d always been. He wasn’t the one to be respected and feared. Nor was he the one to be pitied. Suddenly, he was the enemy.

Fleeing was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do, but as the ever-increasing stories of violence reached him, he was terribly glad that Farrokh wasn’t here for this. An Omega? He’d be far too vulnerable.

As they packed, Jer grabbed every photo of Farrokh she had. Bomi couldn’t blame her. She’d grabbed some of his shirts and jackets, a sketchbook or two, his favourite cologne, and Bomi watched her sadly.

All the same, he went into Farrokh’s room himself, and it hit him like a punch in the chest all over again. Farrokh was gone. Now they were going. How would they ever find each other now?

He opened a drawer and found the pastel yellow veil his own mother had given to Farrokh as a birthday gift. The child had never worn it. Bomi’s hand stroked over the silky material, willing his eyes to stay dry. His breathing wavered, and he had to close the drawer.

In the end, he took one of Farrokh’s tattered old sketchbooks, a bangle and a shirt.

He’d lost enough already. He’d hold onto whatever reminders he could.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Throughout the years, Bomi prayed. He prayed for peace, he prayed for his family, he prayed for his son, wherever he was. He prayed for Farrokh’s safety; he prayed that someone was looking after him, keeping him safe and warm. 

He wondered if Farrokh was still singing. Surely he was. Nothing could ever keep him quiet when he wanted to sing.

Little did he know.

One day, he heard Kashmira scream. He and Jer ran to her- and Bomi stopped dead at that painfully familiar voice, stronger now, singing away on _television._

His hair was longer and straightened; he was wearing an outrageously fluffy coat (and scandalously tight trousers that had Bomi’s instant disapproval), but Bomi would know him anywhere.

_“Farrokh!?”_

“Freddie,” Kashmira sobbed, smiling through her tears. “It’s Freddie.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


They thought finding him would be easy. All they had to do was look up Farrokh Bulsara. It was Kashmira who realised they had to look for _Freddie Mercury._

He wasn’t sure how to describe how he felt that day beyond _overwhelmed._ Overwhelmed with happiness, with awe, with gratitude that his son was alive and well. Shocked that his son was in a band, that he was on television. Confused by the name change, scandalised by Farrokh’s clothing- it was surely too tight, too revealing!- but most of all...He was just happy. More content than he’d been for a long time.

He was in the back garden, but with the door hanging open, he heard Kashmira gleefully calling for him and Jer. He heard Jer start to sob, and he _knew._

He ran inside. 

His wife was clinging to a small, skinny young man with long black hair; a young man who was Jer’s mirror image. Was that a _mark_ on his neck? For a split second, Bomi was furious that _anyone_ would dare touch his son before marriage, before the impulse was smothered (for now). 

There was silence as they looked at each other. Farrokh nibbled his lip, Kashmira hovered protectively, and Jer looked at him pleadingly, as though to say _Please don’t chase him away._

“Hello, Papa,” Farrokh said quietly, and that was all it took to snap Bomi back to reality.

Tears escaped before he could stop them, and he ran to his son, enveloping him in his arms.

“My boy,” he whispered in Gujarati. “Oh, child, welcome home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bomi won't really start referring to him as Freddie until later, after many arguments and discussions.
> 
> Up next, I'm thinking Joe or Roger.


	11. Roger Taylor: Love Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not easy, trying to explain why you love someone so much, but there are simple parts: Roger made a promise. He has every intention of keeping it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roger's definitely getting more than one chapter, he has a lot to say 💕

**_“I always thought I might be bad, now I'm sure that it's true, 'cause I think you're so good and I'm nothing like you. Look at you go; I just adore you, I wish that I knew what makes you think I'm so special. If I could begin to do something that does right by you, I would do about anything. I would even learn how to love.” -Love Like You,_ ** **Steven Universe**

At first glance, he looked delicate. Small, skinny, with long black hair and big brown eyes. He regarded them cautiously, his little fists clenched, but when they asked him to join _Smile,_ he totally lit up.

“I’m Brian May,” Brian said, holding his hand out.

The Omega shook his hand, grinning, not hiding his teeth.

“I’m Freddie Bulsara.”

And so it started.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was a freezing day; the clouds were dark and heavy, and they kept waiting on rain that never came.

For once they went to Freddie’s flat after rehearsal, though Freddie kept insisting it wasn’t much to look at.

“It’s really small,” he said apologetically as they approached the building. “And it’s not exactly pretty.”

“Neither is our place,” Roger laughed. Freddie had to give the front door a good shove before it would open, and he impatiently kicked a leaking rubbish bag left in front of someone’s flat. They all tramped up the stairs, Freddie biting his lip. The carpet in the hallway was stained, the light flickered overhead and the stairs were narrow and filthy. Roger could dimly hear a couple screaming bloody murder at each other upstairs. A tall bearded man pushed past them so harshly that he nearly knocked Freddie down the stairs again, and Brian had to leap to catch him.

“Sorry, kid,” the man yelled over his shoulder without looking back. Freddie only sighed and smiled at Brian in thanks, though he looked mortified.

Freddie’s flat really _was_ tiny, and dim, but it was spick and span and smelled faintly of lavender. The pillows on the sofa were rather flat, but beautifully embroidered, and there was a little bunch of flowers on the dented coffee table.

“I’ll just put the heat on,” Freddie mumbled, all but running away from them, and Roger watched him go, worry growing in his chest.

This wasn’t a safe area. He knew that. Add on that Freddie was an Omega, and he’d have to be insane to not be concerned. Where the hell was his roommate? Why didn’t Freddie live at home? 

Freddie came back looking utterly defeated. “The heat’s not working again,” he said apologetically. “Sorry, darlings. I can make some tea instead?”

“It’s alright, Freddie,” Brian said with a reassuring smile. “Tea would be lovely, thanks.”

As Freddie bustled about, refusing their help and insisting they sit down, Roger saw Brian frown more and more as he looked around. He was pretty sure they were thinking the same thing. Where was Freddie's roommate? Weren't they helping with the bills? But, now that he thought about it, Freddie hadn't mentioned a roommate...

“Fred,” Roger said cautiously. “Doesn’t your roommate help with the bills?”

“I paid my bills,” Freddie huffed, instantly on the defensive. He had his hands on his hips, frowning at them both. “I _did,_ the landlord’s just shit with keeping up with maintenance.” 

“And your roommate?” Roger repeated. The concern was just growing and growing, he had a bad feeling about all this.

“I don’t have one,” Freddie said, still huffy.

It was a shock. Omegas didn’t live alone. They just _didn’t,_ it simply wasn’t done. Even most widows moved in with their kids or other relatives. Roger had never met an Omega that lived alone. They at least usually had a roommate or two.

Roger and Brian exchanged shocked glances, while Freddie continued to scowl, offended and defensive all at once.

“But- but what about your parents? Your family? Can’t they help you out? It just....Freddie, it just seems shitty that you’re expected to work two jobs, handle classes, _and_ pay all the bills alone,” Brian said, frowning. Roger agreed. His parents could surely at least _offer!_ "I just...No offence, Freddie, honestly, but shouldn't you be living with your family?"

Just like that, Freddie’s whole demeanor changed. His arms fell to his sides, the fight left him. He looked small and sad, avoiding eye-contact as he barely managed a smile.

“I don’t really have one anymore, darling,” he said quietly, and Roger’s heart broke.

“Oh…” he said weakly.

The thought flashed into his head; they couldn’t leave Freddie here. They couldn’t leave him alone, especially not in a place like this.

The moment they got home, Brian and Roger started flat hunting.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The thing was, Freddie was utterly unlike anyone else Roger had ever met. He was, on Roger’s darkest days, a light. On days when Roger raged and stormed, on days when he threw things across the room and yelled at the top of his lungs, Freddie always knew how to stop him, how to calm him.

The first time it happened was when he was in rut. He couldn’t remember what he’d been yelling about, he just remembered fighting with Brian, poking and poking at him until Brian snapped and yelled back.

And there was Freddie, walking in between two fighting Alphas, so much smaller than them, looking almost eerily calm.

He grabbed Roger’s hands and held on tight, refusing to let go.

“Rog- Roggie, _stop it!_ ” That was when he saw that Freddie wasn’t really calm at all. His eyes were big and frightened, too bright, his lip was trembling. “Stop it,” he said. “You’re scaring me.”

That was enough. He was tired of scaring people. He didn’t want to frighten Freddie.

There were days where everything felt hopeless. Where everything from his childhood came rushing back; he was stuck in a whirlpool, sinking, terrified of being like Michael after all. He remembered Michael’s fists flying, his voice shouting so loudly that Roger’s ears rang with it. He remembered his mother crying, he remembered pushing Clare behind him, trying to shield her, though it hardly ever worked.

By contrast, there was Freddie, gentle as could be. There was Freddie, who smiled sweetly and said, with utter conviction “You’re nothing like him, darling.”

“How can you be sure?” Roger asked. They were both lying on Roger’s bed, Roger was staring at the ceiling, Freddie's head was on Roger's chest, his hands clinging to Roger's shirt.

“Because I know you,” Freddie said. “You’re a good person, Roggie.” As if it was that simple. Maybe it was.

And Freddie said it, over and over again, until Roger started to believe him. Until, finally, he started to think it himself.

_I’m not like him. I’m not Michael._

He was probably the most optimistic person Roger knew. For whatever reason, he believed in Roger, totally and completely. He was fiercely independent, but he let Roger fuss over him anyway. If he ever had a problem, if he was sad or frightened, or simply wanted company, he always went to Roger first.

And, okay, it was nice to feel needed. It felt like he had a purpose. Looking after Freddie, promising to protect him, felt like one of the first good things he’d ever done.

Freddie made him want to be a better person.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The world, as a whole, treated Omegas like shit. He watched people harass his best friend again and again. Whenever they went out, someone inevitably shouted something coarse at Freddie or tried to touch him, only backing off when they realised he was accompanied by two Alphas.

Roger knew what his fellow Alphas could be like. He knew how many didn’t take no for an answer. He knew how to spot the bad ones from miles away.

He took one look at Paul Prenter and _knew_ he was a bad one. The way he looked at Freddie made Roger’s skin crawl. The way he took a deep breath, inhaling Freddie’s scent, made Roger feel sick.

Prenter looked Freddie up and down slowly, eyes intent, like he was trying to stare through Freddie’s clothes.

“It’s Freddie, right?” he asked.

“R-Right.” Freddie’s voice wavered slightly, so slightly that maybe no one else would notice. But Roger did. Freddie leaned away from Prenter, glancing down at the table. 

Roger looked at Prenter; tall, broad Prenter, who looked like he could snap Freddie in half. He looked possessive, _hungry._

Fuck that. No way was he letting this sleaze near his best friend.

So Roger grabbed Freddie’s hand, glaring Prenter down, snarling.

“Oh,” Reid’s eyes widened as he looked from Freddie and Roger and back again. “I didn’t realise…”

“Most don’t,” Roger said, voice clipped, eyes still trained on Prenter. To his growing delight, Prenter looked away first.

Freddie didn’t pull away or push him off. If anything, he looked relieved. 

At least Prenter wasn’t looking at Freddie anymore. That was mattered.

Roger had made a promise. He intended to keep it.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was one of Sheffield’s parties and, as always, Roger’s skin was crawling with disgust. Every server was an Omega, and they were all but naked. He had the overwhelming urge to get every Omega out of there. Even the Omega artists, few as they were, were half-naked.

Not Freddie though. Not since Roger intervened and told Foster to leave _his_ Omega alone. 

Freddie, as he always was at these things, was tucked under Roger’s arm, sticking to his side like glue, where it was safest.

Roger couldn’t believe this was all seen as _normal._ It could have been worse, he knew it could have been worse, but that didn’t make this _okay._ God, if he and Freddie didn’t pretend to date, Freddie would be in the same position as every other Omega here. He thought of Prenter’s possessive leer and wandering hands, he thought of Sheffield’s smug smile and Foster’s explosive temper, and his grip on Freddie instinctively tightened.

“Are you okay, darling?” Freddie asked, tilting his head.

“Reckon I should be asking you that,” Roger said. He couldn’t help but smile at him. Even here, surrounded by all these creeps and abusive executives, these liars and manipulators, Freddie could make him smile.

Roger couldn’t help everyone else, but at least he could keep Freddie safe.

He’d promised. He wouldn’t ever break that promise.

Smiling, he quickly tapped Freddie on the hip three times. Grinning, Freddie gave a minute nod, and Roger swooped in to kiss him. He ignored the wolf-whistles and laughs; he blocked out the jeers, and focussed on Freddie, letting his best friend’s flowers-and-spices scent calm him, as it never failed to do.

Finally, he pulled back. Giggling, Freddie poked him on the nose, and Roger’s grin widened.

“Love you, Fred,” he said.

Freddie rested his head on Roger’s shoulder, letting Roger pull him in closer. “Love you too, darling.”

_I’ll keep you safe,_ Roger thought, perhaps for the millionth time. _I will, I promise._

Because Freddie was, simply put, his best friend. He meant the world to Roger. He didn’t quite understand what Freddie saw in him, what he saw that made him so convinced that Roger was _good,_ but he could often remind himself not to question it. 

_You’re a good person,_ Freddie said, a million and one times, smiling each time, totally convinced he was right.

Roger wanted to believe him.

Freddie was the most loving person that Roger knew. Sweet, gentle, with a hidden iron-clad will. 

There simply wasn’t anything that Roger _wouldn’t_ do for him.

That was the core of it: Freddie was his best friend. Roger loved him. Freddie had been alone for far too long, it never failed to upset Roger when he thought about it. It was hard to sum it all up, to make it sound simple, because it _wasn’t,_ not really; loving someone so much wasn’t exactly easy to explain. Because wanting to keep someone safe when the odds were stacked against them wasn’t easy either.

But Roger could try and make it easy.

He’d keep his promise; he wouldn’t leave Freddie, he’d look after him, he’d protect him no matter what.

That part, at least, was simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dynamic duo. These two kill me every time.


	12. Julie Foster: Princesses Don't Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julie Foster wasn't sure if she admired Freddie, or if she was terrified for him. Maybe both.  
> But maybe she wanted to be that brave too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out much longer than previously expected, but I was looking forward to Julie's chapter, so hey-ho, I'm not cutting it 😂 So here's Julie Foster, a quiet admirer of Freddie, as well as some of Ray's backstory.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING for abusive relationships, sexual harassment and mentions of rape.

**_“Girls, so pretty and poised, and soft to the touch, but God made me rough. Girls, so heavy the crown; they carry it tall, but it's weighing me down. No, I'm fine, I'm lying on the floor again. Cracked door, you're only going to let them in...Once...And you won't come undone.' Cause a princess doesn't cry. (No.) A princess doesn't cry (no), over monsters in the night, don't waste our precious time on boys with pretty eyes. A princess doesn't cry." -Princesses Don’t Cry,_ ** **CARYS**

The second that Ray announced that he had a new signing, a new band with an _Omega lead singer,_ Julie froze. She was in the middle of serving dinner, and she forced the words out; “Oh...Who’s Norman giving him to, love?”

“No one,” Ray said, scowling. “The drummer’s claimed him.”

Relief made her knees weak, but she was well practiced: she kept smiling, she served dinner, and she listened to her husband rant about his day, about how he worked with “incompetent morons,” she listened to him complain about another band, another solo singer, she listened to him bluster and rant about how much everything cost, slapping his hand on the table so hard that the cutlery and glasses shook. 

Sometimes, she thought she could understand. She remembered the Ray she first met: that poverty-stricken lad, working useless dead-end jobs in an effort to make ends-meet. She remembered his conviction that he’d be on top of the world one day.

Well, he’d proven her right. He was rich and powerful.

He’d lost whatever humanity he had left on the way.

Julie had only been eighteen when she’d first fallen pregnant. She’d run to Ray in tears, certain he was going to kick her straight out of his house, certain he was going to order her to get an abortion; she fully expected to hear “That’s your problem.”

Instead, he’d scowled at her, and was quiet for a long time. He sighed, folding his arms. Twenty-four years old, with the beginnings of a beard, and she’d thought he was the most handsome Alpha she’d ever seen.

“Well then,” he huffed. “Guess we’re getting married.”

Relief had prevented her from noticing his impatience. Relief shut down the voice in her head that told her to leave him; relief kept her from seeing his clenched fists, from acknowledging that he often made her feel very bad about herself.

She was only eighteen. Little more than a child. Still a child, though she was certain she was grown-up. She didn’t know any better.

She did now.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Her first baby, Lewis, proved to be an Alpha. Ray had been ecstatic, and by then Julie was relieved for him. She couldn’t imagine Ray’s reaction if their eldest, their stubborn, bright-eyed eldest, was an Omega like her.

Three years after Lewis, there was Charles, another Alpha. There should have been another one before Charles, but she’d lost it three months in. Even Ray had been unusually kind to her, more moved than she would have believed. Once, she caught him crying. He yelled at her to get out, and she fled back to their room.

He didn’t run after her. He didn’t hit her. He fell asleep in his study that night.

It was one of the rare times they actually seemed united on something. He even took a few days off work. He didn’t exactly look after Lewis, he still left that to her, but he gave Lewis strict warnings to let her rest.

A year after Charles, there was Linda. Her only daughter, as stubborn as her brothers, as quick to stand up for herself as they were.

Another Alpha. Of course.

A good ten years after Linda, there was her youngest, James. By that point in her marriage, in her life, she prayed he’d be an Alpha or Beta. Not an Omega, not like her; she wanted him to be _safe._

He was an Alpha and she cried in relief. Ray laughed at her, certain she was sad that he _wasn’t_ an Omega.

“You should be _proud,_ not crying,” he sneered. Julie didn’t bother to correct him. Let him think what he wanted.

But when she first heard of _Queen,_ James hadn’t presented yet, and wouldn’t until he was fourteen. For now, she still worried about her youngest, the quietest of her children, the one who always watched Ray warily, who followed Julie like a little shadow.

For now, she quietly wondered about this new singer, this Freddie Mercury. An Omega singer, an Omega frontman. Practically unheard of.

And for now, he was safe.

She doubted that would last.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Ray, of course, threw a party to show his new signing off. Of course, he told her what to wear and kept an arm around her all night, one hand tight on her hip, occasionally slipping down to cup her ass and squeeze. She fiddled uncomfortably with her low neckline, hyper aware of how everyone was looking at her. She was a trophy, she knew that. She tried to tell herself she’d made her peace with it.

She wondered if the bruise on her leg was too obvious.

And then Ray, all false smiles and courtesy, introduced her to _Queen._

It wasn’t that she was _surprised_ that Freddie was an Omega, it wasn’t like she’d thought Ray had been lying or- heaven forbid- joking. No, it was just that...The boy himself surprised her. He was the smallest member of the group, but he held his head high, commanding attention. Wherever he walked, everyone’s eyes followed, even her own.

He was only two years older than Lewis.

He may have been an Omega, but his attitude reminded her of Lewis. He laughed loudly, he seemed so carefree, but she could _see_ a burning intelligence in those eyes. He acted silly, but she quickly figured out that he was paying the utmost attention to those around him.

She wondered if he knew just how much danger he was really in. Ray and Norman didn’t think she listened, they thought she was stupid and weak, just a plaything, but she _listened._ She observed. She knew what they did to any single Omegas working for them. The evidence was all around her, even at this party: the half-naked servers, the half-naked artists...Except for Freddie.

Ray’s eyes narrowed on him.

“Did you not get the clothes we sent?” he asked icily.

Freddie smiled at him, his head tilted like a curious bird. “Oh, they were too small, darling.”

Julie nearly laughed. She had to admire his nerve. She’d seen what Norman had cooked up for him- and maybe that skimpy rubbish really had been too small, but she doubted it.

“You look lovely, little bird,” she said quietly. The nickname slipped out before she could stop it, but he _did_ remind her of a bird, bright-eyed, flitting about as if about to take flight- and there was the obvious factor of his voice.

But this little bird refused to be put in a cage.

He smiled shyly, ducking his head. “Thank you, Mrs Foster,” he said.

Roger slid an arm around his waist, eyes narrowed on Ray. Julie couldn’t blame him.

She still watched him warily, alert for any signs that he...Well, that he was like Ray. Like Norman. Like the other executives and managers, and artists. Like her father. Like almost every other Alpha in her life.

But for the most part, she watched Freddie. She didn’t know any other Omegas like him. Most Omegas from her generation were house-wives or house-husbands, like herself. They were quiet, like herself.

Not him. 

_Interesting,_ she thought. Brave. Foolhardy.

Did she admire him, or was she terrified for him? A bit of both.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Norman was over a lot. She was expected to serve the tea and biscuits, the little cakes and later, to pour their whiskey and fetch their cigars. She was expected to come only when called, to speak only when spoken to. For the most part, she was expected to stay out of the room, but sometimes Ray commanded her to sit with him.

Like now.

They spoke as if she wasn’t there. That was their mistake. They expected she couldn’t keep up with them, that she wasn’t clever enough.

But she listened.

“Pity about Freddie and Roger,” Norman said, shaking his head. “I’ve even had executives from other companies asking to borrow Freddie for a night. They’d pay handsomely.”

Julie stiffened, raising her head, but neither of them noticed.

“I still don’t see why,” Ray scoffed. His hand was uncomfortably close to her breast. “He’s not much to look at if you ask me. Too scrawny, too gawky- and those _teeth._ ”

“Yes, yes, we all know you prefer an Omega with curves, Ray,” Norman said, laughing. He smirked, eyeing Julie up and down, sipping his whiskey. “But Freddie’s something else. He’s not...Conventional, I grant you that, but he’s lovely. Exotic.”

_He’s not a pet,_ Julie thought.

“Henry’s shown an interest. Last time I visited he still had those nude photos on his mantel.”

She could have thrown up. Henry. Henry Fitzherbert. Oh God. She could feel panic growing in her chest, wanting _out, out, out!_ Henry Fitzherbert, with his slimy wandering hands and smug eyes, his degrading language, his leers and arrogance, so certain that he was untouchable. 

His parties were a true danger-zone for Omegas. 

There’d been reports that an Omega waitress was gang-raped at one of his parties last year, a New Year’s party or some such. The charges were eventually dropped. But Julie didn’t doubt that the waitress had told the truth.

As the two Alphas continued to talk about Freddie Mercury like he was a doll for sale, an object, a sex toy, Julie forced herself to listen, though she wanted to clap her hands over her ears and scream until she drowned them out.

She thought of her marriage, the years and years of abuse and humiliation. She thought of all the Omegas who had signed Norman’s contract, innocent, oblivious to what they were getting themselves into. She thought of Norman’s parties, Henry’s parties, her own husband’s parties, where Omegas were little more than entertainment.

She thought of Ray laughing after he and Norman arranged that nude photoshoot.

“That’ll teach the little slut a lesson,” he’d said, so smugly, and Julie had forced herself to smile and nod.

And she thought of Freddie, who smiled at her so sweetly and said it was lovely to meet her. She thought of him expertly dodging everyone’s gropes and pinches, glaring at the Alphas and Betas around him, as though daring them to touch him.

She thought of that defiant spark, that fire, and she didn’t want to see that die.

After all, he reminded her so much of Lewis.

  
  
  
  
  
  


She thought she may have frightened him with her warning, but better that he be afraid and alert than oblivious and walk straight into danger.

She asked him about Roger, and he assured her that Roger was kind to him. She’d like to believe him, but Alphas were only kind for so long. Regardless, he couldn’t afford to have Roger dump him. No matter what Roger did, it wouldn’t be anywhere near as bad as what Norman and Ray could- and _would-_ do.

“You must do whatever he wants, you understand?” She grabbed his wrist, squeezing tightly, because she had to make him _listen._ “Whatever he wants, little bird. He may cheat on you, he may humiliate you, he may hurt you, but you _must_ do as he says. You can’t afford to have him dump you. I know what my husband’s contract says. He thinks I don’t listen, Norman thinks I don’t listen, but I _know_ how many Alphas would happily buy you.” Too many, far too many. “They’ll hurt you, you understand, little bird? That photoshoot was _nothing_ compared to what they can really do. You can’t let them hurt you. You _cannot_ let Norman have you. Anything Roger may do will pale in comparison. Are you listening to me?” Her grip tightened, her nails dug into his skin before she could stop herself. _“Are you?”_

“I’m listening! I-” His eyes were wide, frightened, but she didn’t let him pull away. Let him think of her as mad, it was for his own good. He was too much like Lewis, too out-spoken, too fearless.

But unlike Lewis, unlike any of her children, he was small. Petite, like herself. So breakable.

He seemed so _sweet,_ and she was so sick of feeling powerless, knowing what her husband and his friends did, but unable to do anything about it. Tears brimmed in her eyes and she fought to keep her voice steady.

“Whatever he wants,” she repeated, loosening her grip, allowing him to pull back. “Don’t let them hurt you. You’re strong. You’re only a little older than my son…”

“Is he an Omega too?” Freddie asked, tilting his head again, rubbing his wrist where she’d clung so tightly. She shook her head.

“No. He’s an Alpha, lucky boy. They all are…” Well, James hadn’t presented at all yet, but she refused to believe he’d be anything but an Alpha. It was what was safest for him.

“Oh…” Freddie looked at her, so solemn, stronger than she would have believed given his small stature. A little bird, hovering just outside the cage, but unable to fly away yet. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but Ray came back, interrupting them.

“Julie?” He scowled at Freddie, and she hastened to redirect his temper.

“Just complimenting the little bird on his voice, my love,” she said smoothly. “I think he may be the best singer you’ve found so far.”

Ray scoffed, setting his drink down. “Well, you would, wouldn’t you?” Yes, because heaven forbid an Omega has an opinion on anything.

Freddie hopped off the stool, backing away from Foster. He looked at her, eyes sad, but before either of them could say anything, Roger was there.

“Thank you,” Freddie said, as Roger led him away. He glanced back at her, standing on tip-toe at one point to keep eye-contact.

Despite herself, she smiled.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The day that _Queen_ quit, Ray came home, red in the face and shouting bloody murder. Julie ordered James upstairs, and her son reluctantly obeyed. One of their maids, skinny little Maria hovered uncertainly before finally following Julie's orders to go with James.

_“THOSE UNGRATEFUL LITTLE BASTARDS!”_ were the first words out of Ray’s mouth. He grabbed one of her antique vases and threw it across the room; it hit the wall and smashed into a hundred pieces.

As he paced up and down, punching the walls, kicking the furniture and shouting until her ears rang, he told her everything.

_Queen_ had quit. They’d stood up for themselves over some song or other. Freddie had led the way out. Freddie had denied that his place was following Ray's orders. He'd thrown a rock through Ray's window.

_“WHO THE FUCK DOES THAT WHORE THINK HE IS?”_ Ray thundered.

And Julie laughed. She threw her head back and laughed until her sides ached. Even when Ray turned on her, even when he started to hit her, she laughed.

“The little bird’s flown away!” she cackled. “Good for him!”

All told, the beating was worth it, if only to see the look on her husband’s face. He’d never been out-smarted before, let alone by an Omega.

_Good for him,_ she thought later, as she cleaned herself up. _Bloody good for him._

  
  
  
  
  
  


She couldn’t help but follow _Queen’s_ career, more curious than she’d been in a long time. They were so _odd._ Roger and Brian genuinely seemed so chivalrous, John was more talented than people gave him credit for...And Freddie was...Well, she admired him.

She rather wished she could be like that.

In 1978, some new roadie leaked to the press that he’d miscarried. Ray, of course, was smug about it. Ever since Brian and Freddie did their tell-all on the BBC in ‘76, Ray and Norman both had it in for _Queen,_ big time.

But Julie didn’t. And she understood what he was going through. Ray seemed to have lost all his humanity over the years (did he even have any to begin with? Had she simply been blinded by young love?) but she hadn’t.

She used a chunk of her allowance from Ray to buy him flowers, the biggest bouquet she’d ever bought. She held the little card and fretted over what to write. In the end, she’d simply written _“I’m sorry, little bird. Julie F.”_

He sent her a thank-you note and she could have cried.

Maybe she did. Just a little bit.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The first time she asked Ray for a divorce, Lewis was five, Charles was two, and Linda was one. She’d promised to not tell anyone that Ray hit her. She promised to not tell anyone anything, if he’d only let her and the children go.

He hit her so hard she fell and hit her head off the coffee-table. The concussion was so bad that she had to go to hospital. Ray told the doctors she slipped and fell in the dark. Julie backed him up.

She fingered her bond mark and regretted ever agreeing to bond with him. He’d pestered her again and again, claiming it made him look bad- didn’t she understand how much she was humiliating him? Didn’t she see she was hurting him? Eventually, she’d given in, and now she hated it bitterly. It tied her to this monster forever. It made the prospect of divorce that much harder. Even if she managed it, who’d take her, so long as she smelled like another man?

It was always the same. She’d beg, she’d plead, she’d promise anything if he’d only let her go.

“Remember your place,” Ray seethed, gripping her hair. “You promised to obey and honour me, Julie. _Remember that._ ”

As if he’d let her forget.

But eventually, in 1990, a law was passed. A law that shocked the nation, that caused uproar.

An Omega no longer needed an Alpha’s permission to file for divorce, written or otherwise. It was now the same process as it was for everyone else: you could file for divorce, and if it was contested it could take five years. But eventually, it would happen.

“You should do it, Mum,” Lewis said, clutching her hand. “You can stay with me, you know that. You have to leave him.”

“Please, Mum,” James added quietly. Linda flicked her cigarette ash, glaring at the table, but she nodded. Charles had that glare that uncomfortably reminded her of Ray, but he held her other hand.

It had taken them all years to understand that what their father did was wrong, let alone accept it. But they did, just as she did.

Absurdly, she found herself thinking of Freddie Mercury. That brave, stubborn lad who'd smiled at her so gently, who'd thanked her, flying away from the cage that EMI hoped to trap him in. Flying far away, and never letting anyone stop him.

He’d gotten a happy ending.

She wanted to be like that. She wanted to be brave.

So she stood up, and smiled at her children. “Help me pack, darlings, won’t you?”

  
  
  
  
  
  


She didn’t meet Freddie Mercury (though technically, it was Freddie Hutton now) again until 1992. Ray was still harassing her about dropping the divorce and coming home, where she belonged according to him, but he didn’t dare turn up to Lewis’s home.

She felt freer than she had in a long time. 

It was October, she had a scarf wound tightly around her neck against the cold, and to hide the bond mark as best she could. She was waiting by the school gates to pick up Charles’s youngest, seven-year-old Daisy, when she spotted Freddie. His hair was shorter, still curling at the ends; clean-shaven, not quite so thin anymore, with a bond mark on his neck.

He didn’t notice her, and she didn’t quite have the nerve to say anything, not at first. She doubted he’d recognise her anyway.

But as Daisy came running up to her, she watched a tiny black-haired girl run to Freddie, a girl that looked startling like him.

“Papa!” she cried, throwing herself into Freddie’s arms. The little girl nudged their noses together, causing Freddie to laugh.

Somehow, that did it. Holding Daisy’s hand, Julie spoke up.

“Hello, little bird.”

He looked up, startled- and to her surprise, he smiled at her.

“Hello, Julie.”

The little girl- Maeve, if Julie remembered correctly- was looking at her curiously, pouting.

“Papa, who’s that?” she whisper-shouted, likely not realising how loud she was.

Freddie shook his head at her, setting her back on the ground. “This is Julie, darling, she’s...An old friend.”

“Emphasis on old,” Julie said with a smile.

“Nana’s not old,” Daisy said stubbornly. She appreciated it.

She turned back to Freddie. “You’ve done well, little bird,” she said. Her voice wasn’t as quiet as before, he didn’t have to lean in to hear her anymore. She stood up straighter, she knew that. 

He met her gaze, tilting his head, and she could have laughed. Some things didn’t change.

“So have you,” he said.

“I...I followed a good example,” Julie said. “And took some better advice.” Daisy was looking between them curiously, Maeve clung to Freddie’s hand, still pouting, but Freddie’s smile widened, happily surprised.

There wasn’t much more she could think to say, but as they began to go their separate ways, Julie turned back and blurted out, “Thank you, little bird.”

“ _I_ hardly did anything,” Freddie said, but Julie shook her head.

“You’d be surprised,” she said. “You- you reminded me how to fight back.” She took Daisy’s hand again, and turned away before he could answer. She heard Maeve ask “Why does she keep calling you a _bird?_ ” but she didn’t hear Freddie’s answer.

She thought that was the end of it, but a week later, a bouquet much like the one she’d once sent arrived. Attached, was a little note; _“I still say I didn’t do much. You’re braver than you give yourself credit for.”_

Underneath was a drawing of a bird.

“It’s not from Dad, is it?” Lewis demanded with a scowl.

“No,” Julie said, holding the card and smiling. “No, dear. It’s from a friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She got her happy ending eventually ❤  
> Two songs I associate with Julie (and Freddie at his lowest) are "Teen Idle" and "Princesses Don't Cry."
> 
> In "Let The Feeling Grow" Foster had some sympathy in regards to Freddie's miscarriage, because he was there for the aftermath and had to eventually admit that putting Freddie under so much stress can't have helped. In the canon timeline, he has no such issues.


	13. Joe Fanelli: Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, Joe had been head over heels for Freddie. In a way, he still was. Just not in the way he'd expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joe time! I'm hoping to properly cover their relationship at some point if I can, but for now here's more glimpses of them.

**_“'Cause we were just kids when we fell in love, not knowing what it was. I will not give you up this time. But, darling, just kiss me slow. Your heart is all I own, and in your eyes you're holding mine. Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms; barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song. When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath- but you heard it- ‘Darling, you look perfect tonight.’” -Perfect,_ ** **Ed Sheeran**

Joe fell hard and he fell fast. He was infatuated practically on sight. He and the others were taking care of catering, he looked up, saw Freddie and just- just  _ stared,  _ unable to look away. Totally hooked. He took in the dark eyes, the full lips, the lean legs, and thick black hair, and he didn’t want to stop looking.

Freddie was talking to John Reid, and Joe kept telling himself to not be such a creep, to look away- Freddie’s ex (well, his supposed ex) was  _ right there  _ for crying out loud! That just invited trouble.

But he couldn’t look away, and after a few minutes, Freddie seemed to realise he was being stared at. He glanced over his shoulder with a faint pout and caught Joe’s eye. Instantly, Joe could feel himself going red, but he smiled all the same. And Freddie, to his surprise and delight, looked him up and down with a smirk. He tossed his hair back and walked away, hips swaying, shooting Joe one more mischievous smile as he joined his friends.

Yep. He was hooked.

  
  
  
  
  
  


He couldn’t seem to get Freddie off his mind, but with his bandmates always there, he never quite worked up the nerve to approach him. What the hell did you even  _ say  _ to a rockstar anyway? Freddie had probably heard every pick-up line under the sun. If he was honest, he wanted to seem suave, impressive, as if he hit on gorgeous rockstars every day of his life.

As if. He was just Joe Fanelli, the chef. The Beta. By most people’s standards that meant he was too boring to bother with. Well, by most people’s standards Freddie was stupid and couldn’t keep his legs closed. Fuck stereotypes. He wouldn’t let being a Beta hold him back.

He just  _ really  _ wanted something interesting to say, but he kept drawing a blank.

But opportunity presented itself at an afterparty. He was in the smoking area, the closest thing to fresh air available (sometimes smoking inside just got a little too claustrophobic), when Freddie came stumbling out of the club. The singer took a deep breath, looking faintly relieved. When he caught Joe’s gaze, he smiled. Joe offered an admittedly awkward wave. Freddie’s smile widened and he came over.

“Having fun?” Joe asked, and tried not to bite his tongue. But at least it started the conversation.

“Of course,” Freddie said, leaning against the wall. “It’s just so crowded in there, darling- and if one more person grabs me, I’ll start throwing slaps around.”

“People are  _ grabbing  _ you?” Joe demanded.

Freddie waved his hand dismissively, lighting his own cigarette. “Oh, they mean well. They’re just congratulating us on the show, but a crowd of drunk people grabbing you every few seconds gets very tedious very quickly.” Freddie inhaled deeply, throwing his head back to look at the sky. “I just needed some fresh air.”

“Not very fresh out here, it’s the smoking area,” Joe pointed out with a grin.

“It beats the toilets,” Freddie laughed. Instantly, his hand came up to hide his mouth, and Joe didn’t know what came over him- if he was tipsy, stupid, or braver than he thought- but he gently took Freddie’s wrist, lowering his hand. Freddie’s smile faltered, he looked perfectly startled, and Joe forced himself to look Freddie in the eye.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. He didn’t let go though. “I just- you’re always doing that, you know?”

“Doing what, darling?”

“Hiding your smile,” Joe said. Freddie blinked at him, shaking his head.

“I’m hiding my  _ teeth, _ ” he corrected.

“Well I don’t see why,” Joe said stubbornly, and he really didn’t. He  _ liked  _ Freddie’s smile, he didn’t see why so many people bitched about it. His teeth were big, so what? Oh no, the horror! It was ridiculous. He looked lovely.

“You’ve seen them, they’re  _ huge! _ ”

So Joe said what he was thinking: “And? You’ve a lovely smile.”

Freddie stared at him. His cigarette was still held loosely in his free hand. Slowly, he smiled, mouth closed, eyes shining.

“Thank you.”

He must have said the right thing, because as they went back inside, Freddie asked if he wanted to dance. Two dances in, Joe slid his hands around Freddie’s hips. There was a brief pause, a  _ will-we-won’t-we  _ moment. Joe wasn’t sure who leaned in first, he just knew they were suddenly kissing, and he couldn’t quite believe it. He was kissing Freddie Mercury, he was full on making-out with Freddie Mercury in the middle of the dance floor. How in God’s name had he ended up here?

Hell, he wasn’t going to question it. It was what he’d been daydreaming of from the second he laid eyes on Freddie.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It lasted for the whole leg of the American tour, and a while after; it was energetic and fun, and surprisingly easy. It could be dramatic as hell, both of them yelling at each other until their voices cracked, then falling into bed together, losing their voices for an entirely different reason.

Infatuation deepened into love startlingly fast. He looked at Freddie, fast asleep in his arms, and his chest tightened. He didn’t want to let him go. Ever. 

But...But he didn’t want to leave America either.

God, but  _ that  _ was a hard conversation. He held onto Freddie’s hands, doing his best against Freddie’s pleas for Joe to come with him.

“Fred, I can’t just leave my job,” he said, as gently as he could, but when he saw the tears in Freddie’s eyes he nearly gave in. 

“I could find you one,” Freddie said quickly.

“Or my family.” He couldn't leave. He just wasn't ready, not yet.

At that, Freddie went quiet. Joe couldn’t read the look in his eyes at all, but he drooped, curling in on himself. Joe tried very hard not to cry.

It was a shit-show. No matter what he said, Freddie was quiet. Eventually, Freddie mumbled, “I should go,” and pulled away before Joe could hold on.

“Fred-”

Freddie didn’t run, but he slammed the door shut so hard that Joe winced.

He got the cold shoulder for three days. Freddie rushed past him, eyes averted, ignoring when Joe called his name. Freddie always shared a room with Roger, so Joe didn’t have the nerve to go knocking on his door. The blond Alpha was far too liable to knock his teeth down his throat.

But to his surprise, Freddie came to him.

He turned up at Joe’s hotel room, looking small and worried, biting his lip.

“I’m sorry,” Freddie said quietly, a shock in itself.

Despite himself, or maybe because of everything, Joe dragged Freddie straight to his bed. They were both quieter than usual, clinging to each other as Joe thrust into him.

A part of Joe knew how this would end in the long run. He just didn’t want to admit it, not yet. Because he wasn’t ready to give Freddie up, not at all. Not Freddie, vibrant and lovely Freddie, who drove him mad with frustration, who always seemed to know how to make Joe weak at the knees, who made him laugh, who bewitched him with one smile.

Somehow, Freddie wormed his way into Joe’s heart and stayed there. As a friend, as a lover, whichever. Joe couldn’t imagine  _ not  _ having him.

  
  
  
  
  
  


To be fair, they tried. They clung together for the American leg of the tour, they kept in touch for the rest of the  _ Night At The Opera  _ tour, calling whenever they could, talking for hours, or minutes, when they could.

But being on different continents was hard. Being with a famous person was hard enough, but with a famous person who wasn’t even in the country? Even harder.

The press insisted they’d broken up long before they actually had, using Joe’s absence as their reason.

And Joe, as much as he felt guilty, as much as he hated himself for it, found his eyes straying. When he went out, he looked around, letting his eyes linger on some pretty boy or other, smirking at a guy with fucking  _ killer  _ abs. It wasn’t until he held a guy back from kissing him that he caught himself short. Fuck. No way, he couldn’t, he had a  _ boyfriend. _

But it turned out that Freddie had been feeling the same way. He’d been flirting and laughing with others and it wasn’t until some guy at a club offered to take him home, that Freddie stepped back and really thought of Joe.

Tearful, sounding as guilty as Joe felt, Freddie admitted that this wasn’t working.

“It’s not,” Joe agreed, voice cracking. He clutched the phone tightly and shut his eyes. “Fuck, Fred, I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Freddie mumbled.

  
  
  
  
  
  


They fell out of touch for a long time. Joe watched  _ Queen  _ top the charts time and time again, enchanting the world, and he sometimes couldn’t believe it was real. Was he sure he hadn’t just dreamed it all? Surely he hadn’t actually dated Freddie? Surely they weren’t once joined at the hip?

But they were. But not anymore.

Not until Joe moved to London early in 1980.

He’d been given a job offer, one of his friends had moved to London and opened a restaurant. It was terrifying, packing his whole life up, but exciting in it’s own way. 

And he found himself thinking of Freddie.

Freddie, with his big brown eyes and stunning smile; Freddie with his cheeky comments. That enchanting, powerful voice, that stubborn frown, that subtle sway of his hips; Freddie and his bright laughter, stupidly generous and horribly stubborn.

Freddie, who he’d never forgotten, much as he’d tried.

He was in London for all of four days when he gave in and tried the old number. Thank God, by some fucking miracle, the number hadn’t changed.

“Hello?” came Freddie’s somewhat confused voice on the other end of the line.

How he kept his voice steady, Joe never knew. “Hey, Fred.”

“Who-  _ Joe!? _ ”

He nearly laughed. It felt so good, so stupidly good to hear Freddie’s voice again: not in an interview, not on the radio, just...Just talking again, saying his name.

“Guess who’s in London?” Joe managed to joke. There was a brief, stunned pause, before Freddie  _ screamed  _ at him.

“You  _ PILLOCK! _ ”

Joe finally gave in and laughed.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was bizarre seeing each other again. Freddie looked so different with his short hair and moustache, his simpler clothing, but he lit up when he saw Joe.

Shyly, Joe opened his arms, and Freddie ran straight into them, holding on tight.

“You’re a bastard,” Freddie mumbled against his shoulder. Joe clung to him, unable to keep from smiling.

“Takes one to know one.”

“ _ And  _ childish.”

“Like you can talk,” Joe snorted, which got a laugh out of Freddie.

“Fair,” Freddie said, still holding onto him. Joe had no intention of letting go any time soon.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Some part of him had wondered if they’d get back together. If they’d fall back into each other’s arms, each other’s beds, as if they’d never stopped.

They didn’t. To Joe’s own surprise, he was okay with that. It was good to just be  _ friends,  _ to have someone familiar, someone he trusted in this strange city. It was good to be able to go over to Freddie’s whenever he fancied and know that Freddie would let him in, no questions asked.

But then, one day when he went to Freddie’s flat, he saw the police parked outside.

Heart pounding, Joe started to run.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The front door was hanging open and Joe burst in.

“Freddie!? FRED!”

A cop tried to grab him, to stop him, but Joe elbowed him out of the way, only for another to grab him by the arm.

“Hold on there-”

“It’s okay, he’s my friend,” Freddie said quickly, but his voice was weak. He was pale as a sheet, shaking, teary-eyed. Phoebe paced restlessly, equally frightened. He looked terribly relieved to see Joe.

The cops eyed him doubtfully, but let him past. Instantly, Joe wrapped Freddie in his arms, gesturing Phoebe over, who huddled against Joe gratefully. It was only then that Joe noticed a huge dent in the bathroom door, a knife in an evidence bag, though thankfully no blood. The door to Freddie’s room was wide open, and the room was completely trashed.

“What the fuck happened?” Joe demanded.

“Breaking and entry,” one of the cops said, a chubby guy with plenty of freckles. “Some lunatic fan, I’m afraid.”

“Jesus,” Joe breathed.

“I’ll see you out,” Phoebe said to the cops. They gave Freddie a card, promising to be in touch and let Phoebe lead them away. Joe could hear them all talking quietly in the hall.

“Fucking hell, are you and Pheebs okay?” Joe asked.

“It was just me,” Freddie said quietly. “Phoebe wasn’t here.”

_ “What?” _

The very idea turned his blood to ice. Phoebe came hurrying back in, firmly shutting the door, locking it for good measure, and Joe ushered the two Omegas onto the sofa. He sat next to Freddie, still holding onto his hand.

“What happened?” he repeated.

“He was just- he was just  _ here  _ when I got back,” Freddie said weakly. He was looking more and more frightened as the last of the adrenaline wore off. “The door wasn’t locked, but I...I thought Phoebe was home, I didn’t  _ think. _ ”

“And all  _ that? _ ” Joe jerked his head towards the bedroom and Freddie winced.

“He went through all my stuff,” Freddie said, clearly disgusted. His nose wrinkled. “He was sitting on my bed, holding that stupid knife, I just-” His voice cracked and he shut his eyes. Joe felt sick. He felt in genuine danger of throwing up.

“He kept babbling that he loved me,” Freddie said. “He kept talking about how  _ special  _ I am, kept going on about how he can  _ save  _ me, but- but I don’t know what he was talking about, he wasn’t making any  _ sense.  _ He kept insisting we know each other.”

“Jesus Christ,” Joe said. Phoebe’s hands were pressed over his mouth. Freddie’s breathing was rapidly turning into strangled gasps, and Joe knew the signs all too well.

“I punched him, I hit the knife out of his hand, I- I just  _ ran,  _ I should have run for the door,  _ why didn’t I? _ ” Just like that, Freddie was bent over, clutching his hair with his free hand, his nails digging into Joe’s palm.

“Freddie? Babe, no, come on.” Joe pulled him close, tugging on Freddie’s hand until he untangled it from his hair. “None of that, you’ll hurt yourself. Come on, Fred, calm down, it’s okay. I’m right here, Phoebe’s here, you’re safe.”

“But I’m  _ not, _ ” Freddie sobbed, burying his face in Joe’s shoulder.

“I’ll call Roger,” Phoebe said quietly, which Joe couldn’t help but resent. He didn’t need Roger’s help, he knew how to calm Freddie down. They’d dated for fuck’s sake, he’d seen Freddie riding high and curled up sobbing, he’d seen Freddie panic before, he’d seen him collapse from exhaustion. Joe knew what he was doing.

Keep Freddie as upright as possible. Keep his arms by his side if possible; don’t let him pull his hair or dig his nails into his arms, he’d hurt himself. No loud noises. Talk him through his breathing exercises.

“Freddie? You with me, babe?” The old nickname kept slipping out, he didn’t even notice until later, when he really stopped to think about it.

Freddie nodded, gasping, strangled, his nails digging into Joe’s back.

“Alright. Deep breaths, okay? Copy my breathing, Fred, come on, you can do it…”

It took a terribly long time to calm Freddie down, but by the time Roger arrived, Freddie was asleep with his head in Joe’s lap.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The restaurant went bust in 1981. Joe, despondent, went straight to Freddie.

“Simple,” Freddie said, shrugging. “Work for me. I need a chef, you know I can’t cook.”

“You’re crazy, you know that right?” Joe asked, grinning despite himself, because this was just so typical Freddie. “You’re nuts.”

“Is that a yes or no, darling?”

“That’s a yes,” Joe said, knocking their shoulders together. “I cater for you all the time anyway.”

“Exactly!” Freddie said brightly. “Only difference will be a pay raise.”

“Freddie-”

“No buts. Pay raise.”

Also so terribly typical. Joe couldn’t believe he was real sometimes. Flamboyant but shy; bitchy but so kind; sweet but deceptively stubborn. Anxious at times, quiet, but braver than anyone really gave him credit for.

Once, Joe had been head over heels for him. In a way, he still was, but it was different now. Now, Freddie was one of his best friends, his family. Freddie dragged him into Garden Lodge and acted like Joe had always been there. In a way, it was easy to forget they’d ever been out of touch.

It wasn’t what Joe had once dreamed of and hoped for; it wasn’t what he’d once expected.

But it was what he was happy to have. Joe could honestly say he wouldn’t change it.

He wouldn’t change a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to Jim in "Mercury And Me" a man broke into Freddie's flat before he moved to Garden Lodge, and tried on all his stuff, later breaking out of prison (described as armed and dangerous), only to be found and arrested again. Freddie, the damn trooper, even managed to joke with the police about it.


	14. John "Deacy" Deacon: You're My Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John didn't give much thought to Omega rights until he met Freddie. Years down the line, John and Jim have an important talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deacy's next chapter, and his attempt at a shovel talk.

**_“Ooh, you make me live. You're the first one, when things turn out bad; you know I'll never be lonely. You're my only one. And I love the things, I really love the things that you do. Oh, you're my best friend. Ooh, you make me live.” -You’re My Best Friend,_ ** **Queen**

It was one of the rare times that John and Freddie had the flat to themselves. Roger had a date, Brian had gone to visit his parents. 

And it was a lovely night out, so why waste it?

They went out for dinner, walking along and laughing over the stupidest things, debating which songs should make it onto an album, if they ever got the money to make one. Freddie was certain they would, but John worried.

Sometimes, he wondered if Freddie was magic, because all he had to do to make John relax, was take John’s hand and smile so sweetly; he swung their clasped hands without a care in the world and said, so certainly, “Of course we’ll manage it. It’s _us._ We can do anything, Deacy, darling.” Just like that, John believed him. With his yellow shirt, his golden skin and shining eyes, with that bright smile, that determination, he reminded John of the sun: a sunbeam come to life, walking around and dragging John into the light with him.

Not everyone thought the way. 

Dinner was fine; they found a cheap enough Chinese and ordered their favourites, still chatting a mile a minute- well, Freddie chatted, John was happy to sit back and listen for a while. It wasn’t until they went in search of a pub or club that they ran into trouble.

A new pub had opened nearby; they hadn’t heard much about it, beyond that the drinks weren't too expensive, and the live music was fantastic. As they approached, they could hear music pouring from the open doors. Their arms were still linked, and the second they reached the threshold, a bouncer stopped them.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, grabbing Freddie by the arm. “No Omegas allowed.”

_“What?”_ John snarled, outraged. The bouncer pointed to a sign they’d missed, by the cloakroom. Sure enough, in bright red it said _“NO OMEGAS ALLOWED!”_ Just that. No apologies, no explanations, nothing. 

Freddie didn’t look surprised. Disappointed, of course, but not at all surprised.

The bouncer turned to John. “You’re fine to go in, mate,” he said, as if John would still _want_ to.

“Fat chance,” John snapped. He pulled Freddie from the man’s grasp and turned away. “Screw this. Let’s go, Fred.”

“Can you believe that tosser?” John seethed as they walked.

“Of course I can,” Freddie said, and John could have bitten his own tongue off. Freddie smiled, but his eyes were dim. “There’s plenty of places like that around, Deacy.”

“It’s bullshit,” John snapped, and Freddie gave a startled laugh.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so fired up,” he said, teasing. “Not even over Brimi’s solos.”

“But it _is_ bullshit,” John said. He stopped, still clinging to Freddie’s hand. “Aren’t _you_ mad?”

“I am,” Freddie admitted. “But this isn’t the first time and it won’t be the last.”

It broke his heart to hear that, because this was _Freddie,_ his Freddie, sparkling and stubborn, warm and kind, and John hated to hear him _expect_ awful treatment. He deserved the _best._

“I’ve had worse,” Freddie said, pulling him along. It didn’t help. If anything, it made things worse.

“...Worse. How worse?” he asked, dreading the answer.

“Oh, you know...Bouncers who offer to _bend the rules_ if you’ll blow them, that sort of thing. Hell just people in the crowd who think Omegas are always desperate for sex. You’ve _seen_ people groping me, darling, you know what it’s like.”

He hadn’t until he met Freddie. He hadn’t given it much thought before. 

He gave it plenty of thought now.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Seeing Freddie dote on Robert was a welcome surprise, though maybe it shouldn’t have been such a surprise. After all, Freddie constantly doted on John, he fretted over Brian, he utterly adored Roger. He treated his cats like they were babies, which never failed to make John smile, amused and fond.

But there was Freddie, pulling faces to make Robert laugh, looking utterly delighted when Robert giggled. He didn’t even fuss when Robert pulled his hair; hell, he barely even flinched.

“You ought to have one,” he said before he could stop himself. He was instantly worried that Freddie would see it as _You’re an Omega, you have to have babies,_ when all he meant was _You’d be a brilliant parent._

Thankfully, Freddie knew what he meant. He grinned when Robert leaned up to nudge their noses together, and looked at John, eyes shining.

“Well, if any baby I have is half as cute as this little sweetheart, I’ll count myself lucky.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


After the miscarriage, he remembered that conversation and wanted to scream. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Freddie so downcast before. That damnable nude photoshoot had nothing on this, on this awful silence. He’d never seen Freddie cry so much before.

There was no panic, no anxiety. There was just these long dark moods, silence, depression, self-blame, and nothing he could say or do made it any better. John had learned how to help with Freddie’s panic attacks: he’d listened to Brian and Roger’s instructions carefully, and worked out some tricks of his own, but none of that could help now.

It seemed like _nothing_ could help.

“I hate not being able to do anything,” Phoebe admitted with a sigh. John agreed. He felt so _useless._

It wasn’t even a case of ups-and-downs, it was just constant _downs._

But there was something of a turning point.

He felt like a complete dick for taking Freddie’s offer to mind Robert and Michael for the weekend, but Veronica’s cousin was getting married, and Veronica was one of the bridesmaids. He’d already tried Roger and Brian, who were both unavailable; he’d asked his mum and sister, and he wasn’t sure who else he trusted enough to mind his sons. Worst case scenario, he’d simply skip the wedding.

He wasn’t going to ask Freddie, God not in the circumstances, but as he complained over lunch at the studio, Freddie, who’d been dead silent, raised his head with a frown.

“I can babysit,” he said. “I have before.”

“I- are you _sure?_ ” John asked, blinking rapidly. Roger rapidly shook his head from behind Freddie, Brian looked at Freddie like he was made of glass, and John rapidly tried to think of some polite way to say no.

Hell, he honestly expected Freddie to backtrack and say no.

But instead, Freddie nodded. His eyes were still missing their sparkle, John hadn’t seen him smile in weeks. He looked like he hadn’t slept a wink, but he had that stubborn clench to his jaw that John knew all too well. When he got that look, there was no changing his mind.

“I...Um...If you’re sure…” John said slowly. Roger looked ready to throttle him.

Freddie nodded again. “I’ve looked after them before,” he reminded John.

“But the whole _weekend-?_ ”

“Deacy, it’s fine.”

He felt like a complete tosser for agreeing, but he did all the same.

_He’ll change his mind,_ John told himself. _Or I’ll find someone else._

But Freddie didn’t change his mind, despite John’s constant questions, despite Roger pestering him, despite Brian hovering uncertainly. He didn’t change his mind; if anything, he seemed more and more determined to prove them wrong.

  
  
  
  
  
  


To do Freddie credit, he seemed almost like his old self when John and Veronica dropped the kids off. There was a flash of pure agony on his face when Veronica handed baby Michael over, but it was there and gone again in a second. Robert toddled about, eagerly grabbing at anything pretty that caught his fancy; he beamed at Freddie with a gap-toothed smile, and Freddie smiled at him the way he always did. There wasn’t a chance of Robert noticing anything amiss.

That didn’t stop John from worrying the entire weekend. Freddie promised over the phone that everything was fine, Roger and Brian called to promise everything was going okay, even Phoebe called with reassurances. Robert proudly told him that he’d helped put Michael to bed- he had fetched Michael’s blanket and soother, and did everything Freddie asked him to do.

Still, he worried.

He worried that it would make Freddie feel worse, that he’d come home to find Freddie crying.

Instead, when he and Veronica went to collect their boys, it was Phoebe who answered the door. Grinning, he motioned for them to hush, and led them to Freddie’s room.

Michael was asleep between Freddie and Robert, his bum in the air, his mouth hanging open. Robert was sucking his thumb in his sleep, curled up small, copying Freddie. And Freddie was out cold, one finger still stuck in Michael’s grip.There was a healthy flush to his cheeks again, his hair was a tangled mess, and it was the most relaxed John had seen him in weeks.

Finally, he allowed himself to relax too.

They’d be okay.

  
  
  
  
  
  


John was the baby of the group. There were plenty of jokes about Freddie acting like his mother; John would openly acknowledge that Freddie looked after him. Freddie was something of a protector, an odd mix of friend, brother and parent. He was fiercely independent, only ever really letting Roger take care of him.

That didn’t stop John from worrying about him.

When Jim came along, John was instantly on guard. Because sure, Jim seemed kind; he seemed like such a gentleman, always pulling seats out for Freddie, opening doors for him, helping him in and out of his jacket. He held Freddie like he was made of glass, but John had seen too many so-called _gentlemen_ turn out to be complete assholes to blindly trust him. 

But as the weeks and months passed, Jim never faltered. He never stopped looking at Freddie like he was something precious, he never stopped looking so totally _smitten._ Even when Freddie wasn’t looking, Jim smiled at him, eyes glowing.

And then came the news that Jim was going to be moving into Garden Lodge. 

John knew that Brian and Roger had given their shovel talks- Roger had given more than one- and even Miami had given some stern warnings. John had been quiet; he gave some passive-aggressive warnings, he’d been stony at first, too wary to let Jim in.

But now? Now he had to say something.

So he invited Jim to lunch. He _liked_ Jim, don’t get him wrong. He’d never seen Freddie so happy before, but that didn’t stop him from worrying, because John knew how the world saw Omegas, he’d seen Freddie be treated like a toy, time and time again.

He wouldn’t let that happen again.

“So, about Freddie,” John began, only for Jim to smile.

“Shovel talk?” he guessed.

“Of a sort,” John said. He twisted his napkin around, wondering where to start. “Look, Freddie’s- he’s so damnably _sweet._ He’s stubborn as anything, but he...He’s always looked after me. That’s the thing, he tries to look after people, but he never really let’s anyone look after _him._ People see he’s an Omega and they either assume he’s weak, or they think of him as a sex doll. We’ve met so many people who don’t even treat him like a _human,_ Jim.”

Jim nodded, eyes dim. John wondered how much he knew.

“He’d do anything for you,” John said.

“I’d do anything for him too, John,” Jim said.

“I believe you.” 

For a moment, they were quiet. But John swallowed the last of his nerves and spoke up.

“He’s scared of the dark, but you’d have a hell of a time getting him to say so. If he has a panic attack, keep him from tugging at his hair or scratching his arms- he might dig his nails into his hands or arms too, and you need to make sure he doesn’t. Don’t let him hurt himself. He’s petrified of spiders, but you probably already know that.” Despite himself, John smiled. “But he won’t let you kill them, he always insists you have to put them outside. When he tells you he loves you, he means it.” John bit his lip, wringing his hands. “He’s quiet off stage and away from the parties. He’s shy, but he can trick you into thinking he’s not. And he...He loves people _so much,_ Jim. The press call him all sorts of names, all these stupid, horrible slurs; they insist he’s careless, that he’s a horrible influence, but he’s so kind. He acts tough, but if he decides you’re in, then you’re in, and he’ll do anything to look after you.”

“Yeah?” Jim asked, smiling slightly.

“Yeah. He’ll look after you, but sometimes he needs someone to look after him too. He won’t say so, but you can’t wait for him to say it. You need to get in there and _do_ it. And one more thing...” John looked Jim straight in the eye. “Please don’t hurt my friend.”

Jim’s smile was impossibly gentle. He nodded, raising his glass in a salute. “I won't,” he said. “I promise.”

“Good,” John said. He managed a smile, letting the tension leave his shoulders. “That’s good.”

He’d leave the threats for another time. For now, he thought he’d made himself quite clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Jer! 👍


	15. Jer Bulsara: Anybody Have A Map?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Jer, losing Freddie was a nightmare, but getting him back was a genuine dream come true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We see Jer and Freddie's relationship really start to heal in "Slipping Through My Fingers." This is more an examination of Jer's feelings towards him in the early days, and a glimpse at her realisation that she was in the wrong.

**_“Another stellar conversation for the scrapbook. Another stumble as I'm reaching for the right thing to say. I'm kinda coming up empty, can't find my way to you. Does anybody have a map? Anybody maybe happen to know how the hell to do this? I don't know if you can tell, but this is me just pretending to know. So where’s the map?” -Anybody Have A Map?,_ ** **Dear Evan Hansen**

Jer hadn’t expected her son to be an Omega. He was so stubborn, so outspoken in his opinions, that she’d expected him to be an Alpha like his father. Sometimes, when she’d looked at her tiny child the idea made her smile. He may be small, but he wouldn’t be an Alpha to be trifled with.

But then he presented as an Omega, and the world tilted on its axis.  _ An Omega!  _ Her boy was an Omega, and she’d agreed to send him to India! He was an Omega, and she let him do  _ boxing lessons.  _ She hadn’t given him a proper curfew, nothing! God, what danger had he been exposed to?

She watched Bomi drag Freddie back to his room, ignoring Kashmira’s frantic questions. She sat, her face buried in her hands, as she tried to work out what to do now. She ignored Freddie punching at his locked bedroom door and his screams to be let out. He was in  _ heat,  _ she couldn’t possibly let him outside like that, God only knew what would happen to him.

An Omega. Her child was an Omega.

  
What now? What was she supposed to do now?  
  
  
  


Here was what Jer had grown up knowing: she was told that Omegas were delicate. That they were fragile, weak, in need of constant care and protection. She was told that Omegas simply weren’t as smart as everyone else, they couldn’t  _ really  _ think for themselves. They were overly emotional, but obedience was ingrained in them. Take them in hand, and they’d soon do what was expected of them. Guide them in the right direction and they’d do their duty with a smile.

Not so with Freddie. Not at all.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Jer never quite knew what to do with him. He utterly baffled her. He took everything she knew about Omegas and threw it in her face. He was often quiet, but if you told him what to do, heaven help you. He simply refused.

To Jer, he simply refused  _ to see reason.  _ She’d never met an Omega like him. Ever. She told herself that it was a phase. Just a way of getting attention. He’d grow out of it and calm down, and do what was needed with a smile.

But he didn’t.

Admittedly, when the idea of Freddie marrying Dazmen was first broached, she hesitated. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to send Freddie to India again. But it was an engagement to the Yazadi family, Bomi’s father told them that Dazmen was an upstanding young man: honourable, clever and strong. Everything an Alpha of his rank should be.

The more she thought about it, the more it seemed like a wonderful idea. After all, Freddie  _ was  _ an Omega, he needed to be looked after, and who better than a strong husband? She and Bomi wouldn’t be around forever. Someone needed to look after Freddie when they couldn’t, when they weren’t around.

And Freddie, her sweet, loving little boy, would make an amazing parent, she was sure of it. Combine his already kind nature with an Omega's instincts to nurture, and he'd be a wonderful father.

It seemed like such a neat little solution.

She ought to have known better.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Bomi’s parents, his father in particular, raged about the embarrassment, the shame, and the dishonour that Freddie had brought on them all by running away. Jer barely heard it. She felt like she was caught in a nightmare. Freddie was gone, there were no clues to his whereabouts; a shopkeeper insisted he’d seen Freddie get into a taxi, but it was from a distance and it was dark out, around midnight when the shopkeeper supposedly saw him, so who was to even say he was right? Even then, if it  _ was  _ Freddie, all that told Jer was that her son could have gone anywhere.

Was he even in Zanzibar anymore?

Her friends patted her awkwardly on the back and quietly offered their condolences; some even brought food and flowers, as if Freddie was dead, as if this was his wake.

She kept waiting for him to come home.

Even when they fled Zanzibar themselves, she waited for him. She kept expecting him to run through the door and straight into her arms.

She brought as many of his things with her as she could, clinging to what she could of him, refusing to lose any more reminders. 

Kashmira was insistent, even after so many years, that Freddie was alive and well. Bomi didn’t say anything, but he frowned every time it was said, doubtful, but refusing to admit it. Jer wanted to cling to the idea that her son was alive, but if she completely truthful...She wasn’t so sure anymore.

  
  
  
  
  
  


She kept his things in her room, in their new little house in England. His picture was on her bedside table, and she spent a long time looking at it every morning. She wondered what life would have been like, if only he’d stayed.

He’d be safe and sound in India; maybe he’d have children by now. He’d have settled down, surely, and lost that foolish wildness. He’d have matured into an Omega to be proud of, she knew it. Back in Zanzibar, so many of her friends had commented on Freddie; they’d raised their eyebrows at his attitude to be sure, but so many of them complimented Jer on how lovely he was.

“He’s such a sweet little thing,” Priya said approvingly. “Always so friendly.”

“He’ll have plenty of Alphas chasing after him,” Komala said, eyes twinkling. “A face like that? He’ll nab a good one Jer, mark my words.”

Remembering that gave Jer pause. At the time, she’d been so proud, because yes, her Freddie was  _ beautiful;  _ as far as she was concerned, there was no lovelier Omega in Stone Town. None of them could hold a candle to her son.

But now she wondered...Because yes, Dazmen had seemed quite taken with Freddie, but her son had dragged his heels and caused trouble at every turn. He’d said he hated Dazmen. He'd insisted, time and time again, that he wouldn't be marrying Dazmen Yazadi.

So no, he wouldn’t be happily married right now if he’d stayed, would he? No. No, Jer had to admit it now; it could only have ended badly.

_ Kashmira was right,  _ she thought, staring at Freddie’s smiling face, forever seventeen.  _ We should have left him alone. _

  
  
  
  
  
  


She watched Kashmira grow, and a part of her always ached. Because Freddie should have been eighteen, nineteen, twenty...Twenty-seven. Ten years passed before she saw him again.

Needless to say, she certainly didn’t expect to see her son singing on television.

Kashmira was laughing and crying, Jer clutched the back of the sofa, struggling to stay upright, and Bomi gawped as Freddie, their Freddie,  _ her Freddie  _ pranced across the stage in a huge fluffy coat, hips swaying in a way that immediately made her want to pull him  _ off  _ stage and away from all those prying eyes.

But he was  _ singing,  _ still singing his heart out, always singing. She’d forgotten how beautiful his voice was.

His eyes were shining in a way she’d never seen before. Had she ever seen him that happy?

If she was honest...No. No, she hadn’t.

He was luminous, impossible to look away from; all her wishes had come true in one swift moment. The crowd on the telly seemed to agree with her: they clapped and danced along, singing in time with him. Those in the front row reached for him, looking delighted whenever Freddie so much as glanced at them.

_ That’s my baby,  _ Jer thought, utterly unable to believe it. Surely she was dreaming?  _ My baby’s on the BBC. My son’s singing on the telly. Freddie’s ALIVE! _

“My baby,” she murmured through her tears, pressing a hand over her mouth. Kashmira jumped for the Yellow Pages, but Jer remained stuck, staring, transfixed.

_ My baby’s alive. _

  
  
  
  
  
  


Two days later, when Kashmira dragged Freddie into the house with her, Jer still couldn’t believe it. She took one look at him, with his tight bright clothes, his straightened hair and painted nails, and she screamed, nearly collapsing. Relief made her knees weak, she was crying before she could stop herself.

Freddie ran to her, catching her before she could hit the floor.

She clung to him like a lifeline, silently daring the world to take him from her now.

“Farrokh,” she sobbed. “Oh God, baby, don’t- don’t you  _ do  _ that to me. I thought you were dead!”

His grip on her tightened, and she kissed the top of his head, barely registering that his scent was mixed with someone else’s. Not yet anyway. That would sink in later.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” he mumbled, and Jer sobbed again. Half laughing, half crying, she kept pressing frantic kissing into his hair and on his forehead, cupping his face in her hands, taking him in.

“I love you,” she told him, because she’d never said it enough, she never  _ could  _ say it enough. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too,” Freddie said, which just made her cry harder.

  
She was never  _ ever  _ letting him go again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jer may get another chapter, as I'm not totally satisfied. We'll see.
> 
> Next up: Rami! 💕


	16. Rami Malek: Superheroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course Rami had been nervous about meeting him- after all, he was Freddie Mercury, a walking legend. But Freddie instantly took Rami under his wing, teaching him his old tricks, and fussing over him as much as any parent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I saw prompts on tumblr about Omega!Freddie teaching Omega!Rami to flirt, and uh...Yeah fucking please??? He would, and we all know he would, the little shit.
> 
> I have some time off for Christmas, so I'm hoping to update more!

**_“All his life he's been told he'll be nothing when he's old. All the kicks, and all the blows, he won't ever let it show. ‘Cause he's stronger than you know, a heart of steel starts to grow. When you've been fighting for it all your life, you've been struggling to make things right, that's how a superhero learns to fly. Every day, every hour, turn the pain into power.” -Superheroes,_ ** **The Script**

Of course Rami had been awed to meet him; he’d been researching religiously ever since he got the audition, and the more he learned the more amazed he was. He quickly looked up to Freddie Mercury, admiring him in moments.

He’d only been a casual fan before he got the audition. He’d known who  _ Queen  _ were, he knew their hits; he knew who Freddie Mercury was, and he knew his dynamic had shocked (and infuriated) thousands of people. No one had expected an Omega to rise so far.

If anything, it was encouraging. 

Rami knew about Omega history, and the stories turned his stomach. Sure, he’d had to deal with discrimination, with racism, but compared to how things were not that long ago...Well, pretty much everything that Freddie had to put up with was illegal now. No one could hit Rami, no one could sell him off to the highest bidder, regardless if he was single or not. Refusing him a job because he was an Omega was a chargeable offence now- so long as it could be proved he was refused because of his dynamic at least.

Of course, there was still a long way to go. Things weren’t perfect. Discrimination was illegal, but you couldn’t shut everyone up. There were still people harping on about  _ “the good old days,”  _ there were still people who thought Omegas were stupid, always desperate for sex, just there to follow an Alpha’s orders.

Bullshit of course, but there was simply no changing everyone’s minds.

Rami had had his fair share of struggles; racist comments, bullying over his looks and size, particularly bullying over his eyes, and frankly disgustingly lewd suggestions all because “You’re an Omega, sweetheart, no need to play coy.”

But compared to the 70s? Even the 80s? He wasn’t sure how the hell Freddie kept going.

  
  
  
  
  
  


So he was a bit of a fan-boy at the start. Sue him. He couldn’t help it. Freddie was just so damn  _ kind.  _ He fussed over everyone like a mother-hen, and had everyone on set scrambling to do his bidding.

Well.  _ Almost  _ everyone. Bryan Singer clearly looked down on him. Rami had met his fair share of old-fashioned Alphas, but this was  _ ridiculous.  _ The more Rami read the script, the more research he did, the more Singer started to remind him of Foster and Sheffield. It was an uncomfortable realisation to say the least.

But Singer couldn’t ruin everything, he couldn’t keep them down for long.

Still, Rami was hyper-aware of Singer’s eyes on them as they filmed. Right now they were working on the scene where the  _ Queen  _ boys were told they were going to America. Ben had to run in while Rami was getting dressed, so Rami only had a long fluffy towel to cover himself with. He tried not to shudder, the nude photoshoot still stuck in his mind on repeat.

But for now, Rami forced himself to focus as Ben burst in.

_ “FRED!” _

“ _ Jesus,  _ Roggie!” Rami clutched the towel against himself, bristling. “Haven’t you ever heard of knocking!?” He tied the towel tightly and Ben, laughing, ran over to lift him right up.

“We’re going to America!” he cried. “Reid’s booked us a tour. Freddie, holy shit, we’re going to  _ America! _ ”

Rami froze, his hands digging into Ben’s shoulders. He grinned widely, ducking his head the way Freddie always did.

“You’re joking.”

“Do I  _ look  _ like I’m joking?” Ben’s grip on him tightened, he pressed his nose against the fake mark on Rami’s neck. 

“Everyone decent in here?” Gwil asked, lightly knocking at the doorframe. Joe had his hands over his eyes.

Rami burst out laughing, clinging to Ben as he rapidly ran through his lines, quickly explaining. The words were barely out of his mouth when Gwil let out a huge whoop, Joe laughed, and they both ran over to join the hug, nearly pulling Rami out of Ben’s arms and onto the floor with the force of it.

_ “Cut!”  _ came the call. They all four turned to Singer; Ben still held Rami in his arms, stiffening when Singer’s eyes roamed over Rami.

“Good enough,” Singer said briskly. “We’ll run through it again after lunch.”

As soon as Singer turned away, the assistants rushed over to help Rami into a warm robe; Gwil stood between Rami and Singer, frowning at the rest of the lingering crew.

“You okay?” Ben asked quietly.

“All good,” Rami said. Certainly, Singer made his stomach crawl, but this was nowhere near as bad as the nude photoshoot had been. Besides, he’d seen some of the earlier drafts for the script: there’d been a lot more nude scenes and a lot less comfort. The cuddle pile after the photoshoot nearly didn’t make it into the script at all. It was Brian’s insistence that got it in.

Rami was actually pretty grateful for that. It had definitely been needed.

“Are you alright, darling?” And there was Freddie, taking Rami’s hand, looking at him with obvious concern.

“I’m fine, promise,” Rami said. Freddie didn’t look convinced, but he relaxed a little when Rami smiled at him.

  
  
  
  
  
  


One thing Rami quickly learned, was that although Freddie was quiet, he was stubborn as a mule. He could be impatient as all hell, outright  _ sulking  _ when things didn’t go fast enough. And damn did he know how to twist everyone around his little finger.

“Everyone’s a little in love with him,” Brian laughed. “It’s always been like that.”

Rami didn’t know how he did it, honestly. Singer seemed to be the only one who  _ didn’t  _ soften towards Freddie. The nicest he got was “You were lovely in your day.” Freddie had only stared at him flatly, completely unimpressed. He didn’t even bother with a half-arsed “Thank you,” he just rolled his eyes and strode over to Roger instead.

Rami admired it.

He admired it even more when, on a particularly busy day, Freddie quickly convinced two Alphas to give up their seats. They’d started early, and Freddie had arrived only minutes after Rami to go through the day’s plans with him: it was a very Freddie-centric day. First they were going through him standing up to his parents, and his reluctant agreement to introduce them to Roger. Then they had a huge shopping trip with Mary, his meeting with Phoebe, and the aftermath of his and Joe’s break-up. If all went according to schedule, they were going to film his and David’s first meeting too.

Turns out, yelling at your on-screen parents for take after take for a director who was never satisfied was bloody  _ tiring.  _ Rami was told not to leave and go to his trailer; they wanted him to wait while they reviewed the footage so far in case they needed another take. 

_ Brilliant,  _ he thought dully. His throat was aching, he knew there was no way he could yell like that again.

“Is that man ever happy?” Freddie scoffed. “For pity’s sake, I was  _ there,  _ surely if I say you got it right that means you got it right.”

“That won’t convince him,” Rami croaked. Freddie instantly looked worried. He wrapped an arm around Rami’s shoulders and led him away.

“Come on, love, let’s get you some rest.”

“But I can’t leave-”

“There’s plenty of places to rest other than your trailer,” Freddie said, but in this case he was wrong. Every available chair (and even some tables) was taken. There was no way Rami was about to make Freddie sit on the floor with him. Even when he suggested he simply sit on the floor, Freddie bristled.

“Absolutely not,” he said firmly. He looked around, eyes narrowed- and then he smiled. “Come on, darling.” He led Rami over to a pair of Alphas who had taken two of the comfiest looking seats.

“Excuse me, darlings,” he said. The two Alphas looked up; as soon as one realised that Freddie Mercury was speaking to him, he went bright pink.

“Er- yeah?” The other didn’t blush, but his eyes were wide.

“I’m terribly sorry to bother you.” Freddie’s voice was sugary sweet, his smile had a shy edge to it. “But I don’t suppose you know where we could find a spare seat?” He gave a tiny sigh. “It’s just that Singer doesn’t want Rami going back to his trailer just yet, but I’m afraid we’re both exhausted.” He shot Rami a proud smile, squeezing his shoulders like a happy parent. “The poor thing’s been up since dawn.”

The two Alphas looked at Rami. And Rami, exhausted, his throat still aching, offered a shy smile. He didn’t even realise he’d been looking at them from under his eyelashes until he straightened up. The blushing one went an even darker shade of pink and jumped up.

“You can have my seat,” he said quickly. “I don’t need it.”

“That’s so sweet,” Freddie said, still with that sweet tone, that shy smile. “Rami, love?”

“I, er- thanks,” Rami said, bewildered. He sat, the blushing Alpha hovering, as uncertain as Rami had ever seen an Alpha. The second one stood up too, offering Freddie his seat, even offering the elderly Omega a hand, which Freddie waved away with a good natured laugh.

“Do you need something for your throat?” the blushing Alpha asked Rami, who glanced uncertainly at Freddie. His fellow Omega raised his eyebrows with a pointed smile. So Rami turned back to the Alphas and copied Freddie’s shy smile, tilting his head.

“I don’t want to be a bother…”

“It’s really not,” the Alpha said quickly. 

“If you’re sure…” Rami’s smile widened. What the hell was happening? “That would be lovely, thank you.”

The Alpha grinned, now a rather alarming shade of red, and all but ran to complete his task. His friend hurried after him, shooting one last look at Rami and Freddie over his shoulder.

As soon as they were gone, Freddie laughed, his hands over his mouth.

“I- did you just  _ flirt  _ with them to get their seats?” Rami asked, gaping. How had that even  _ worked?  _

“Oh honey, you bat your eyelashes at an Alpha and make it sound like they’re so big and strong and they’ll trip over themselves to do what you want,” Freddie said gleefully. “It still works on my boys to this day! I tell Jim how sweet he is, I tell Brian how clever he is, I tell Roger how strong he is, and  _ boom!  _ They do anything I want.”

“Yeah?” Rami asked with a grin.

Freddie nodded, as if he were imparting great wisdom. Honestly, Rami did wonder if he should take notes, especially when the Alphas came back with Strepsils and cups of tea. They looked absolutely delighted when Rami smiled at them. Freddie looked more and more amused, but when the Alphas looked at him he was all sweetness again.

“It even worked on Ratty and Crystal,” Freddie confided once the two Alphas were gone again. “Oh sure, plenty of them  _ can  _ be assholes, and there’s some real sexist pricks in the world...But there’s also plenty who only  _ act  _ tough. Smile, giggle a bit, compliment them and they melt.”

“How can you tell who’s who?” Rami asked, and Freddie grinned at him, squeezing his arm.

“Oh, Rami darling, we’re going to have so much fun.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Just don’t use your powers for evil,” Freddie quipped when they were done talking. Rami laughed and nodded in agreement. Besides, there were surely only so many people this would work with.

And he was just...Just Rami. He wasn’t like Freddie. 

But to his surprise, it worked. The very next day, at the end of filming, Rami was exhausted. He felt like he was going to fall asleep standing up.

“You okay, Rams?” Gwil asked. Yawning, Rami leaned against him.

“Tired,” he mumbled. Honestly, he  _ was _ joking when he said, “Carry me?” but batting his eyelashes and smiling must have done  _ something,  _ or maybe Gwil was just that much of a gent. Either way, he lifted Rami up without further comment, ignoring the crew’s confused stares and muttering.

Freddie shot him a thumbs up. Rami buried his face in Gwil’s shoulder, torn between dying of embarrassment, or trying to sort out just how the hell that had worked.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Another thing Freddie was an utter champion abouts, was heats. 

They were never comfortable. Rami always had stomach cramps, his legs and hips always ached- in particular, it felt like his hips had  _ tightened,  _ that was the only way to put it. He felt sore and sick, and not at all in the mood to put up with Singer’s bullshit today.

But Freddie came skipping into his trailer, armed with blankets, a hot water bottle shaped like a cat, painkillers, and some bottles of chilled water. Rami was curled up in a little ball on the sofa, feeling utterly miserable.

“Poor thing,” Freddie cooed, pushing Rami’s hair back. “I remember what it’s like, and it’s no fun at all.”

“I can’t believe I have to put up with this until I’m- what,  _ fifty? _ ” Rami groaned. “It’s not fair. I’m suing.”

Freddie laughed at him, tucking him up in the blankets. He offered the hot water bottle, which Rami gladly took, placing it on his stomach. He waved away the painkillers, but gulped down some water.

“You’re as bad as Maevie,” Freddie said, his eyes softening. “She flipped when she went into heat for the first time.”

“Really?” Rami asked. 

“Oh yes. She thinks that having to deal with periods and heats is, in her own words, bullshit.”

Slowly, Rami nodded. Maeve had a point there. At least he didn’t have to worry about that.

“Sami and I presented on the same day,” he confided. “I expected...I expected our parents to be disappointed, but they were happy for both of us.”

“That’s good,” Freddie said gently. “That’s how it should be.”

Freddie’s parents had locked him away, Rami knew that. Everyone knew that. Rami tried to imagine his parents locking him in his room, simply for going into heat. He couldn’t. They’d been  _ happy.  _ They’d celebrated him just as much as they did Sami for being an Alpha. They’d both worried about him, he knew that, they’d  _ said  _ so. His father had worried endlessly about how Hollywood would treat him. He rang Rami after every audition, always questioning how he’d been treated. No matter how many times Rami reminded him that selling Rami to some executive or director was illegal now, his father had still fretted. 

He would have expected his mother, or his sister, Omegas like himself to do the hovering- and they had their moments, but it had been his Alpha father who did the most worrying.

Rami missed him.

Eyes stinging, Rami cuddled up to Freddie, doubling over the hot water bottle.

“Love, are you alright?” Freddie asked, wrapping an arm around him. 

“Yeah,” Rami mumbled, closing his eyes. He breathed deeply, letting the scent of a fellow Omega wash over him, soothing him.

Freddie ran a hand through Rami’s hair, humming quietly. “You rest for a bit, darling,” he said. “I’ll wake you when they need you.”

Eyes still closed, Rami pressed as closely against Freddie as he could, taking slow, deep breaths. Slowly, he relaxed; the blankets, the hot water bottle, Freddie’s arm around him, the humming, and Freddie’s scent all helped. Slowly, the pain was forgotten as he drifted off.

  
_ Don’t meet your heroes,  _ some people said. But never mind that. Rami had met one of his heroes, and it was constantly proving to be amazing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rami's for sure getting at least one more chapter 😂


	17. Jim Hutton: I Was Born To Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim didn't expect to meet the love of his life in a club, but there you go. And certainly, he was nervous, he had his doubts...But he had no intention of letting Freddie slip through his fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The early days of their relationship. Strap in for Jim gushing about Freddie.

**_"So take a chance with me, let me romance with you. I'm caught in a dream, and my dream's come true. So hard to believe this is happening to me, an amazing feeling comin' through. I was born to love you with every single beat of my heart. Yes, I was born to take care of you, honey, every single day of my life.” -I Was Born To Love You,_ ** **Queen**

If you’d asked Jim back in the day how he expected to meet the love of his life, he wouldn’t have said “In a club.” He wasn’t quite sure _what_ he’d have said, just that he would have expected something...Well, a little more romantic. Maybe one of those rom-com scenarios.

He wasn’t the most typical of Alphas, he supposed, sitting and dreaming about true love. A lot of his friends (and quite a few family members too) would tell him to not be such a sissy and man up. It would happen when it happened, if it happened at all, silly daydreams were, in his co-worker’s Jerry’s words, “for Omegas, don’t be such a sap, Hutton.”

(Jim had been very happy when Jerry quit. But never mind that.)

Jim knew he _looked_ like a typical Alpha; he was tall and broad, big hands, and his resting face (unfortunately, a small frown) was often mistaken for aggression. But he didn’t _feel_ like a typical Alpha. Honestly, he sometimes wondered if that was a good thing. He knew far too many Alphas who expected the world to bend over backwards to accommodate them, no matter how outlandish their expectations were. Too many thought they didn’t have to work for what they wanted. He knew too many Alphas who treated Betas like servants, and Omegas like toys. He did his best to avoid that crowd, but it was simply impossible.

So maybe he was a sap for wanting a real romance. They could laugh at him for thinking Omegas should have equal rights as much as they wanted, Jim _knew_ he was right.

_“Would you talk about your mother or father like that? Your sister? You brother?”_ he’d demanded a fair few times. Sometimes, that shut them up. Other times, it just egged them on, or angered them.

He’d actually had a pretty rubbish day when he met Freddie. To start with, work had been packed, and full of rude customers. Two of his newer co-workers had a very loud discussion about the Omegas they’d shagged the night before, which made the little old man Jim was attending to so uncomfortable that he didn’t even let Jim cut his hair- he left as soon as Jim washed it instead. His manager was in a bad mood, so that meant none of them could do anything right in his eyes. There’d been a lot of bitching, snapping and petty arguments. 

Then, on the way home, he’d run into an old co-worker who’d quit last year, Martin. He was an Omega, and he’d left towards the end of his pregnancy. He was pushing a baby in a pram, a baby with curly blonde hair and pink cheeks. His husband, a tall Alpha named Edward, beamed with pride whenever he looked at either of them.

When Martin had asked how things were going, Jim hadn’t been sure how to answer. How were things going? The same as always; he was still single, his job was usually enjoyable, but it had been hard to remember that right then, after the day he’d had. His landlady was sweet, but terribly nosey.

It was business as usual.

Jim was kind of starting to hate it.

He called his friend, Steven, when he got home. And Steven, wonderful, stubborn Steven said “Right, we’re going out, Jimbo.” He arrived at Jim’s flat in fifteen minutes and dragged him down to Heaven, one of his favourite clubs, though Jim didn’t usually go there himself. There were other clubs that were closer to his flat, but he followed Steven’s lead.

“We need to get you laid,” Steven said, as if the situation was dire. 

“No, you really don’t.”

“Trust me. We do.”

And okay, Steven’s theatrics soon had him laughing- he’d point to random men throughout the club and give downright poetic descriptions on their arses, their eyes, their style, their dance moves.

It worked, he had to give Steven that.

He’d just finished his second beer when Steven came back from the bathroom, grinning widely.

“Jim, I just saw an absolute _stunner_ of an Omega.”

“Oh really?” Jim asked, smirking, because that had to be the ninth time Steven had said that.

“Fuck yes. Tiny as anything, big brown eyes…” Steven frowned, folding his arms. “I swear I know him from somewhere though. He looked really familiar.”

Knowing Steven that meant this Omega could be anything from an old flame, a one night stand, or simply an old classmate.

Steven looked over his shoulder, straining to see over the crowd. “No, Jim, seriously, I _knew_ him.”

“He sure sounds like your type at any rate,” Jim said, and Steven grinned.

“Oh yes. What about you then, seen anyone?”

Jim shook his head, because yes, there were some truly gorgeous men around tonight, but he wasn’t really feeling it. Jokes aside, he’d rather just hang out with his friend and have a few drinks.

Speaking of…

“I’m gonna grab another,” Jim said, raising his empty glass. “Want anything?”

Steven shook his head, still peering around with a frown, and Jim headed to the bar.

If you really wanted to be romantic, you could say that he just _knew_ somehow. That some part of him knew where he had to be, that the stars had aligned to put them in the same room.

Jim knew it was just chance, but he was bloody grateful for it.

He got his beer, but as he started to leave, a smaller man turned away from the bar and knocked straight into him, splashing Jim’s beer all over Jim- and himself. Most of it seemed to get on the other man, soaking into his yellow tank top, staining his white jeans.

“Oh, _shit,_ I’m so sorry dear!” he gasped, small hands pressed over his mouth. He was an Omega, with a scent of flowers and spices. An odd combination, but it _worked._ He could smell roses, freesias, violets, lilies, and other flowers he couldn’t identify; he could smell cinnamon, paprika, rosemary...It all blended together so that only the strongest of scents were easy to identify. The rest were all jumbled, and Jim had to resist the urge to take a deep breath, to try and guess every single flower and spice mixed in together.

_He has a nice voice,_ he thought, trying not to stare. The Omega reached out, but faltered, looking utterly mortified, and Jim knew he’d better say _something_ and put the poor man out of his misery.

“I think it got you more than it got me,” he said, smiling, because it _had,_ the poor Omega was soaked. He was much smaller than Jim, which thick black hair, tanned skin, and Jim felt like a dick for noticing his large teeth...He wasn’t Jim’s usual type at all. Be they Omega, Beta or Alpha, Jim usually preferred big men, broad men, tall men. Someone his size or larger.

And yet, he found himself thinking this Omega was gorgeous.

The Omega frowned at Jim’s now mostly-empty glass. “Well, at least let me buy you another one.”

“You don’t have to,” Jim said. The Omega still looked embarrassed, maybe even a little frightened or worried, like he expected Jim to lose his marbles. Jim hated to think he might be frightening him. “It’s only beer.”

“Well, I want to,” the Omega said, quite firmly, stubbornly, clearly expecting an argument. 

Jim didn’t give him one. Instead, he agreed.

The Omega smiled at him, his hand covering his mouth to hide his teeth. “I’m Freddie,” he said.

Jim held his hand out, and the Omega shook it. Jim remembered what his father used to tell him; that it was more courteous to kiss an Omega’s knuckles, it was more mannerly. Still, that would surely be coming on too strong.

He didn’t, though the urge was there. Instead, he just offered his own name; “I’m Jim Hutton.”

Freddie’s smile widened, and he turned back to the bar to order a replacement drink.

“Are you here on your own?” Jim asked.

“I’m with my friends,” Freddie said. He pointed to a particularly loud table towards the back. “That’s them. And you, darling?”

“Just with my friend, Steven,” Jim said. Freddie smiled again, quickly looking Jim up and down.

As he handed Jim a new beer and grabbed a cocktail menu, Freddie looked up at him, tilting his head. “Want to join us?” he asked. Jim hoped he didn’t seem too eager when he quickly nodded, but Freddie looked delighted.

He didn’t understand why Steven kept gawping at Freddie, not then. To be fair to Steven, he didn’t blurt out _“You’re Freddie Mercury!”_ or say anything at all to make Freddie uncomfortable. So Jim didn’t understand why his best friend looked so _awed_ whenever Freddie spoke to him, or why he looked so terribly ecstatic when Freddie sat as close to Jim as possible.

At the end of the night (well, in the early hours of the morning), Jim walked away with Freddie’s number tucked in the pocket of his jeans, and Freddie walked away with his, shooting him one last grin over his shoulder, and- hold on. That wasn’t a taxi. That was a _Rolls-Royce._ Was that a bloody _chauffeur_ jumping out to help Freddie into the car?

“You have no idea who he is, do you?” Steven asked, grinning and shaking his head. “Oh, Jimbo. Buddy. My man. Do you have _any fucking clue?_ ”

“No,” Jim said honestly, still staring at where the car had been.

“That’s _Freddie Mercury,_ you idiot!” Steven said, cackling. He clapped Jim on the back. “Jesus Christ, you have Freddie Mercury’s number! You had _Freddie fucking Mercury_ making eyes at you all night! Christ, no wonder he looked familiar! Do you have any idea how many men would kill to be you right now?”

“No,” Jim said again. Freddie Mercury? The name was a little familiar, he supposed… “Is he on the telly?”

Steven stared at him for a long, quiet moment before he started laughing again.

  
  
  
  
  
  


They arranged to meet up a few times, but that was mostly with their friends around. Jim quickly cottoned on that Freddie was something special. Everywhere he went, people turned to watch him. His friends seemed to hang on his every word. A quick laugh, a smile, a compliment, and he could put anyone at ease. 

Jim found it odd to think that this man was a rockstar. What exactly was he getting himself into? Was this even a good idea? Maybe he should back away now, before he got dragged into the limelight too…

But then Freddie would smile at him, smile as if Jim was the most important person in the room, and- and Jim didn’t want to leave his side.

“I want to take you out properly,” Jim blurted out. He was pretty sure that Joe and Phoebe were doing their damn best to listen in. Peter Straker wasn’t even _trying_ to pretend otherwise, and God help him, did _Elton John_ just join their table? But he refused to be distracted.

Freddie seemed a little surprised. For a moment, he just stared at Jim, eyes wide. But slowly, he started to smile. He nodded.

“Okay,” he said, oddly shy. “I’d like that.”

Great. Fabulous. Now Jim just had to find somewhere to take him.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Jim worked himself into a right state over it. He wasn’t exactly rolling in cash, and maybe it was old fashioned of him, but he felt like Freddie deserved the best of the best. He wanted it to be _perfect._

“He’s just a bloke like the rest of us, Jim,” his friend Tom scoffed. “You don’t need to panic over it.”

Except it _wasn’t_ just _a bloke,_ it was _Freddie._ Freddie with his bright smile, his heart-stopping eyes; Freddie, who seemed to _like_ that Jim didn’t fit the typical Alpha stereotype. 

Steven, being a _Queen_ fan, offered some wisdom: “He likes sushi, spicy foods, Chinese...That sort of stuff.”

“You got that from a magazine, didn’t you?” Tom laughed. Steven shrugged, unapologetic. 

Well, it was a straw to grasp at. Jim found a nice Chinese restaurant, and booked a table.

  
  
  
  
  
  


He had Freddie’s address, he knew it was in the fancy part of town, but he hadn’t expected _a fucking mansion._

_Christ, he’s out of my league,_ Jim thought. He looked at the small bunch of daffodils he’d brought, and felt like an idiot. What the hell did he really have to offer Freddie? Surely the Omega could have anyone he wanted? 

But Jim wasn’t one to back down so easily. He wouldn’t let self-doubt stop him. He rang the bell by the gate, and Phoebe buzzed him in. It helped that Phoebe smiled at him, apparently happy to see him. He didn’t seem so wary anymore. It was easy to sit and chat, but when Freddie swept in, Jim’s throat dried.

“You- you look amazing,” Jim managed. Phoebe grinned, winked at them and slipped out quietly. Freddie’s smile had a shy edge to it. His skin almost looked golden in the lamplight, his eyes more beautiful than ever; his white silk shirt emphasised his colouring, the dark hair, eyes and red lips; his black pants clung to him, he had a few rings on, and maybe he’d just gotten out of the bath, because his hair was curling at the ends.

“Oh shut up,” Freddie said, but he was still smiling. He noticed the flowers and _beamed._ “Are those for me, darling?”

“Yes,” Jim said, standing as Freddie came over. “I, er- I wasn’t sure what you liked, but-”

“They’re beautiful,” Freddie said. He rested a hand on Jim’s chest and grinned. “Same goes for you, Jim.” He fucking _winked._ “You clean up nicely.”

He was certain he was beet red as Freddie took the daffodils and found a small vase for them. A calico kitten prowled around his ankles, purring. Jim bent down to stroke her, telling himself to just _please keep cool._ When he looked up, Freddie was smiling.

“Typical Delilah,” he said. “She loves attention.” He linked arms with Jim, beaming up at him. “So where are we going, darling?”

“Do you like Chinese food?” Jim asked, suddenly nervous all over again, but Freddie kept smiling.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It _was_ a pretty place, all red and gold decor, black polished wood and beautiful landscape paintings. They were ushered to a small table. Quite a few people turned their heads when they passed, and Jim wondered how many were _Queen_ fans. He wondered if any of them didn’t know who Freddie was and, like Jim, just couldn’t help but look.

No, Jim wasn’t the typical Alpha in many ways, but he couldn’t deny a tiny part of him delighted in the fact that _his_ date was the one drawing so many envious glances. How had he gotten here? How had he, plain old Jim Hutton, ended up with this stunning Omega on his arm?

He was surprised by just how much talking they did- by how much talking _he_ did. He was normally much quieter, but Freddie teased answers out of him, seemingly genuinely interested in his answers. When he said he had nine siblings in total, Freddie’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

_“Nine?”_ he gasped. “So that’s- goodness, that’s ten children, how did your poor mother keep her sanity?”

“Whether she did or not remains to be seen,” Jim laughed. 

“And my mama thought she had her hands full with two,” Freddie said, eyes still wide. 

All through the starters, the main and the dessert they talked: about their childhoods, about Ireland, India and Zanzibar. Freddie genuinely looked interested when Jim talked about hairdressing, asking all sorts of questions. He told Freddie about rugby, Freddie told him about boxing. Jim asked about touring, about how he’d met his band in the first place. When he talked about his band mates, Freddie lit up.

“I couldn’t have done it without them,” he said, simple as that. “They’re family. They’re pack. Always have been, really.”

And it was sappy as all hell, his friends and brothers would laugh at him, but Jim could have listened to him talk forever.

  
  
  
  
  
  


They got a taxi back to Garden Lodge. Before Freddie climbed out, he paused, turned back and took Jim’s hand.

“Do you want to stay?” he asked.

Jim didn’t hesitate to say yes.

He woke early, like he always did. Freddie was still asleep, his head on Jim’s chest. They hadn’t closed the curtains properly, and the weak morning light turned some strands of Freddie’s hair gold, and Jim just- he still couldn’t believe this was happening. They’d only known each other for nearly two weeks, and already Jim was smitten.

And, incredibly, it seemed like Freddie was too.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, lying there quietly and replaying the night before in his mind, running a hand through Freddie’s hair and- he was sure- smiling like an idiot.

Slowly, Freddie’s eyes fluttered opened. He gave a small yawn, blinking blearily, but his eyes cleared when he looked at Jim, instantly wide awake and smiling.

“Good morning,” was the only thing Jim could think to say. Freddie pushed himself up on his elbows, still smiling at Jim.

“Morning, darling,” he said softly, and kissed him.

No, Jim wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up here, but what was the point in questioning it? This time, he wouldn’t let his doubts hold him back.

Pushing those doubts aside, Jim wrapped his arms around Freddie’s waist and deepened the kiss, holding him closer, already never wanting to let him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jim just adores him, damn it 💕😭
> 
> I'm hoping to finish the next chapter of "Let The Feeling Grow" tonight! If that doesn't work, I'll try to finish the next chapter of this.


	18. Colleen Hutton: Lullaby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colleen would have expected her son's rockstar boyfriend to be arrogant and demanding. She was surprised by how shy he was, but she quickly adored him all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm planning to at least TRY and work in a one-shot where Freddie meets Jim's family, but until that day comes here's Colleen's point of view.

**_“Trees touch windows, say their hellos. We hear this house as it settles in. Worry slips away, it don't know your name, it don't know where to find us. Oh, as the light goes out thoughts turn to angels, all around us. Oh, as the night comes in dreams start their drifting, and we hear a lullaby.” -Lullaby,_ ** **OneRepublic**

Colleen had been dying to meet him. She’d never heard Jim sound so utterly smitten before. She asked a million and one questions about Freddie and, for once, Jim seemed happy to answer. No awkwardness or embarrassment. No “Oh, Mam, _please!_ ” 

Her son was _happy_ and that was enough to make her like Freddie Mercury long before she even met him.

She wanted to meet him right away. Of course, Jim and Freddie lived in London, and she lived in Carlow. Add on the chaotic schedule of a celebrity, and it felt like she’d never meet him. Jim would accuse her of being dramatic, but it took a whole _year_ for her to meet Freddie.

  
  
  
  
  
  


She knew the facts: he was an Omega, he was three years older than Jim; he was a singer in a band called _Queen._ She vaguely knew some of their songs- she thought _You’re My Best Friend_ was very sweet, but rock ‘n roll just wasn’t her thing. She’d seen his photo, she saw him on the BBC with his friend John, and thought him a handsome little thing. Not Jim’s usual type at all, but so lovely with those big brown eyes and bubbly laugh.

She’d known he was on tour, but she hadn’t realised he’d _just gotten back_ from touring. If she’d known she’d have waited until Christmas to arrange for him and Jim to come over. But she didn’t know, no one had _told_ her, and she nearly slapped Jim around the head when she realised.

It was, typically, lashing rain when they arrived. It was mid-afternoon when Jim knocked on the door. She flew to open it, and there they were.

“Hi Mam,” Jim said, but all her focus was on Freddie. The poor thing was leaning against Jim, clearly half-asleep. His eyes were drooping, he looked a little pale. He was so _small_ and she was suddenly certain he’d catch his death standing in the rain like that.

“Oh you poor thing!” Colleen cried. She grabbed Freddie’s arm and tugged him into the warmth of the house. “Poor lad, you’re drenched! Sit down, love, I’ll pop the kettle on.”

“I’m doing grand, Mam, thanks for asking,” Jim called after her, hauling their luggage in.

“Hush you,” Colleen said. She pointed her wooden spoon at him and he winced. Freddie, sitting on the sofa where she’d deposited him, just looked completely bewildered. Jim looked at him and immediately softened, leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

“You rest, honey,” he said. Freddie nodded, still looking baffled. He kept peering at Colleen like he expected her to laugh at him.

Jim joined her in the kitchen. While the kettle boiled, she interrogated him.

“Is he ill?” she asked. “He looks so peaky.”

“No, no, he’s just back from tour-”

_“He’s what?”_ She slapped Jim’s knuckles with the wooden spoon, ignoring his yelp. “Jim! He should be in bed!”

He gawped at her, protesting, “You _invited_ us! He insisted he was fine, I didn’t-”

He shut up when she folded her arms, chin tilted up. “Fetch some towels,” she ordered. “You both need it.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Despite Jim’s stories, she would have expected a rockstar to be arrogant. Loud. Holier-than-thou, that sort of bollocks.

Instead, Freddie was a total sweetheart.

He was quiet as a mouse at first; he humoured Colleen’s rapid-fire questions, but his smile was shy, his answers brief, his voice quiet. He ducked his head a lot, but he also kept asking if she needed help carrying the tea tray, or setting the table.

“See that?” Colleen said to Jim. “That’s manners.”

“Noted, Mam,” Jim said. He turned to Freddie and said, “You watch, I offer to help and she’ll tell me to feck off out of her kitchen.”

Okay, so maybe she did. Sue her, but she swore none of her children knew the meaning of the words _“Be careful.”_

At least it made Freddie smile. It even got a laugh out of him, albeit a small one. He looked like he was finally relaxing.

She didn’t actually get a moment alone with the lad for two days. Jim’s siblings, their spouses and kids (those that had them) were all coming over, so Patrick, her eldest, had booked a table at the local pub. No way in hell would they all fit in her house.

Freddie looked _petrified,_ instantly curling up closer to Jim when Colleen made the announcement.

“Mam, he’s so shy,” Jim fretted when Freddie was out of the room. “I promised he’d just be meeting _you._ ”

“Oh,” Colleen said. She tapped her bond mark, a nervous habit. “Maybe we could cancel?”

But when Jim offered, Freddie shook his head, clenching his jaw.

“Don’t be daft, darling,” he said briskly. “If I can handle packed stadiums, I can handle your family.”

“You haven’t met the nutters yet,” Colleen joked, getting a shy smile in return.

The day of the big get-together, Colleen entered the kitchen early. To her surprise, Freddie was already there, frowning at his glass of water like it held all life’s secrets, if he could only figure it out.

“Freddie, love?”

She startled him so badly he nearly knocked the glass over, instantly flushing red. He looked like he was expecting her to shout at him.

“Are you okay, dear?” she asked. She sat across from him, and Freddie bit his lip.

“Just- worried, I suppose.”

“They’ll love you,” she said. She was already certain of it. _She_ did at any rate.

But Freddie didn’t seem convinced. He just looked away, still biting at his lip, so she changed the subject.

“Jim’s met your parents, hasn’t he?”

It was the wrong thing to say, because Freddie noticeably curled in on himself.

“He did,” Freddie confirmed. “It...It was okay.” 

“Protective bunch?” Colleen asked.

Finally, Freddie looked at her. “No,” he said quietly. “No, not really. I wouldn’t say so.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. Cautiously, she reached out and laid her hand on top of his. He didn’t flinch back, but he looked startled. 

“How do you mean?” she asked. “Jim said they were...A little stern, but they seemed to like him…”

“Oh, no, they did,” Freddie said quickly. “Sorry, darling, I don’t- I just mean they’re…” He shrugged helplessly. “They’re traditional. Hard to please and all that.”

Ah. Say no more. Her own parents could have been much worse, but some members of her family thought being an Omega was embarrassing. It was pretty awful constantly being told by those around you that you were, at your core, a sinner, easily misled. She’d hated being told she wouldn’t amount to anything. That her sole purpose was to make an Alpha happy. Some of her friends’ parents refused to let them leave the house in heat. Old-fashioned rubbish if you asked her. 

“You know, whenever I stayed at my grandparents’ house, they wouldn’t let me outside if I was in heat,” she said. Freddie’s eyes widened, he pursed his lips, but she continued; “My parents were alright, by their standards...But most of my family? Ooh boy, they thought I was thick as a brick, no matter what I did. And my parents certainly had their moments- they paid for my brother to go to secondary school, but not me. They told me I didn’t need it.” She raised her eyebrows. “Sound familiar by any chance?”

There was a long drawn out pause but, slowly, Freddie nodded. “I went to school,” he said. “But they didn’t really teach us anything. They said...They said maths, geography, science...All that was _too hard_ for us. Sports were too dangerous. History was watered down and censored. Literature was mostly moral tales about staying _pure,_ or romances.” He huffed impatiently. “Not to mention we had to kneel all the time.”

At that, her light grip on him tightened; she linked their fingers together and held on tight.

_“Kneeling?”_ she demanded. “What, on the _floor?_ ”

He looked perfectly startled by her reaction.

“I- I’m sorry, darling, I shouldn’t have said anything,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to upset you, I-”

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “Freddie, love, I promise you can tell me anything, okay? I’m not mad at _you,_ God no! I’m mad you had to put up with that.”

“So did you,” he said quietly.

“Yes, well- Omegas have to stick together, don’t we?” 

This time, when she grinned at him, he finally smiled back.

  
  
  
  
  
  


She couldn’t help but grin at how _proud_ Jim looked to have Freddie on his arm. If you asked her, they made a good-looking couple. 

Colleen had put on her favourite blue head-scarf, an old Mother’s Day gift. Sometimes she couldn’t get over how much times had changed- none of her Omega children covered their hair, nor did Freddie. Jolly good thing too, she thought, because it would surely be criminal to hide such beautiful hair.

Sure enough, all her other kids were at the pub waiting for them at the biggest table: Patrick, Saoirse, Andrew, Millie, Roisin, Dermott, Lauren, Ciara, and Aishling, as well as their spouses: Patrick’s wife Molly, Saoirse’s husband Kieran, Andrew’s husband Joseph, Millie’s husband William, Dermott’s wife Lucy, Lauren’s wife Anne, Ciara’s husband Bernard and Aishling’s husband Dylan.

And then, of course, there were the _kids;_ the teenagers, the children, the toddlers, and the babies; Aishling looked ready to pop, bless her. No wonder the other patrons eyed their table warily. Times like these she couldn't blame Roisin for staying single.

Jim, she was pleased to see, helped Freddie out of his coat and pulled his seat out for him. He’d clearly taken his father’s lessons to heart.

As soon as Freddie was seated, her children _pounced._ They didn’t wait to take turns, no, they spoke over each other rapidly to the point that even Colleen struggled to tell who was saying what.

_“Enough!”_ Jim barked, glaring around at them all. “Jesus, would you let him _breathe_ for a minute?”

Andrew held his hands up in surrender, half the kids were gaping; most of the group was staring at Freddie like they couldn’t believe he was real.

_Ah. Queen fans,_ Colleen thought. Well, it stood to reason that at least _some_ of them would know who he was. She just hoped the rest of the pub would remain oblivious. No one seemed to be staring too much…

But poor Freddie looked prepared to flee. His eyes were wide, he looked a trifle too pale, pressed as closely against Jim as he could get. Jim wrapped an arm around him, still frowning at his siblings and in-laws.

“I really liked _Under Pressure,_ ” fourteen-year-old Bridgette blurted out. She had stars in her eyes. It broke the tension though: almost everyone started laughing, and Freddie breathed out, a little smile on his face.

“I’ll be sure to let Deacy know, darling,” he said brightly. Bridgette squealed. Some of the tension left Jim’s shoulders, and he smiled at Freddie. 

Colleen patted Freddie’s hand with a smile.

“Don’t let them frighten you, love,” she said. “They’re all still misbehaving children at heart.”

He smiled at her, still tucked under Jim’s arm. To be fair to Freddie, he put on a winning performance, laughing and chatting away, but he stayed under Jim’s arm, curled against her son’s side. Whenever she caught his eyes, he’d widen his eyes and pull a face. She couldn’t blame him, they _were_ awfully loud and nosey.

“Are you reporters now?” Colleen asked, sipping her beer. “For pity’s sake, give him a break.”

“Sorry,” Ciara said, grinning sheepishly. Freddie waved away the apology, but he mouthed _Thank you_ at Colleen. She beamed at him, patting his hand again. At least he seemed to be more at his ease now, less overwhelmed, less shy. More himself.

He was a sweet lad, she thought. Quieter than one would have expected. Blooming brave too, to do what he did. Standing on stage as an Omega? She didn’t know many people who would have the nerve. 

And he made her son happy, so very happy. That was enough for her.

Still, she couldn’t help but adore him for himself, sweet little thing that he was. She was more than happy to add him to the family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omega bonding is very much so needed.
> 
> My fellow Irish out there: how many of your mothers or grandmothers, or aunts- heck, any older women in the family- have ever threatened to slap you with big wooden spoon? 😂 For me, it was a favourite threat of a great-aunt. She never DID, but I swear it was her catchphrase.


	19. Roger Taylor: Whispers In The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger's seen Freddie go through a lot; all things considered, it was no wonder he was so protective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hey, guess what? I made a tumblr for this entire A/B/O world if anyone's interested:  
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/i-lay-my-life-before-queen
> 
> If anyone has any questions, prompts or requests, throw 'em at me! Ask box is officially open! 👍

**_“I’ll be the one that's gonna hold you, I’ll be the one that you run to. My love is_ ****_a burning, consuming fire. No, you'll never be alone. When darkness comes, I'll light the night with stars; hear the whispers in the dark. No, you'll never be alone. When darkness comes, you know I'm never far. Hear the whispers in the dark.” -Whispers In The Dark,_ ** **Skillet**

Roger quickly lost count of how many assholes he had to scare off. It seemed like every time they went out, some creep came sniffing around Freddie, hovering and leering, only backing off when Roger snarled.

Call him over-protective, but Roger called it instinct. He could tell who the bad ones were, and who the good ones were. The good ones he had no problem with. Freddie was a grown man, Roger wasn’t about to try and stop him from seeing anyone.

He’d just keep the sleazy ones away.

  
  
  
  
  
  


At one of EMI’s parties (one of Foster’s to be specific) a strange Alpha came up to him. He was tall, heavy-set, somewhere in his fifties. Roger didn’t know his name, but he knew he was one of Sheffield’s friends. That alone was enough to put Roger on edge.

“Lovely to finally meet you,” the Alpha said, shaking Roger’s hand. “Henry Fitzherbert. I’m a friend of Norman’s, lad; head of Turned Up Records.”

“Oh, right,” Roger said, trying to inject some enthusiasm into his voice. 

“I just wanted to congratulate you,” Fitzherbert said. His eyes went across the room, to where Freddie was talking with Brian. “You’ve a lovely Omega.”

_Fuck’s sake,_ Roger thought. He forced a smile and nodded. “Thank you.”

“Beautiful,” Fitzherbert murmured, still staring at Freddie. He turned back to Roger with a smile. “Now, between us Alphas- don’t suppose you share?”

Instantly, Roger was snarling, fists clenched. 

_“No,”_ he growled. “Not a chance.”

“Oh come now,” Fitzherbert laughed. “I’d be willing to pay a considerable sum. There’s plenty who would.” Was that meant to _reassure_ him or something? “An Omega like that...It’s a crime to keep him to yourself.”

Roger wanted to punch him. He dearly wanted to punch him.

As tempting as it was, he knew how much trouble it would land him in. How much trouble it would land the band in, and he knew Sheffield would lash out at Freddie, as their sole Omega, the most.

So he took a deep breath, keeping Freddie firmly in mind as he said, “I’ll thank you and your _friends_ to keep your noses out of our relationship. He’s _mine. Only_ mine.” He pushed past so harshly that Fitzhebert’s drink splashed on his suit, and he marched over to Freddie and Brian.

“Hi, darling,” Freddie said, sipping his champagne. Brian hovered protectively, frowning around at the executives and managers. “Are you alright?”

“Just Sheffield’s friend being an arse,” Roger said. He pulled Freddie into his arms, running a hand through Freddie’s hair. “You doing okay?”

“Oh, Brimi’s been babysitting in your absence,” Freddie laughed. Roger smiled at Brian gratefully over the top of Freddie’s head. His fellow Alpha was still bristling, but he returned Roger’s smile.

“Let’s collect Deacy and get out of here,” Roger said.

His boys were all too happy to agree.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The thing was, Roger was there for it all. He was there when Freddie broke down over the Zanzibar Revolution, certain his family was dead. He was there for all of EMI’s abuse, and did he best to shield Freddie. He was there, holding Freddie’s hand, as they watched Omega Rights Marches on the telly, watching Omegas like Freddie fight for equality, and usually ending up injured or dead. He was there when Freddie’s parents continued to treat him like a wayward child. He was by Freddie’s side, every step of the way, after Paul’s attempted rape. 

And he was there for the miscarriage.

He’d never felt so useless before.

Freddie mostly lay in bed, staring into thin air. Sometimes he cried. Sometimes he pushed Roger away, screaming at him to fuck off. Other times he clung to Roger like a lifeline, clinging desperately, sobbing his heart out.

“I don’t know what I did,” he’d sob, over and over.

“You didn’t do anything,” Roger said. He held Freddie as tight as he could, his cheek resting on top of Freddie’s head. “Fred, you didn’t- it just _happened._ These things happen. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry but...It was bad luck. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

None of them knew what they were doing. None of them knew how to make it better.

Maybe two weeks after the miscarriage, Freddie called Roger. His voice was croaky, he’d clearly been doing a lot of crying.

“Can you come over?” he asked, and Roger didn’t hesitate to jump into the car.

The second he knocked, the door flung open and there was Freddie in his pyjamas, his hair tangled, his face streaked with drying tear tracks. His lip was trembling and he flung himself into Roger’s arms.

“It’s okay,” Roger said. “You’re okay, I’m here. You’re alright.”

“I feel like shit,” Freddie mumbled, and Roger’s throat tightened.

“I know,” he said. “But you’ll feel better I promise.”

Normally, Roger was good at calming Freddie down. Normally, he could cheer him up, look after him, fix anything. Not this.

He couldn’t fix it, but he could _help._ Out of everyone, Freddie clung to him the most. Out of everyone, he wanted Roger.

Roger wouldn’t complain about that. He _wanted_ to help. He wanted to look after Freddie, to do what he could to make this even a little easier.

He couldn’t do much, besides hold onto Freddie, try to get him out and about, and sit with him when he didn’t want to leave the house.

It wasn’t much, but he did what he could.

  
  
  
  
  
  


After everything, it was no wonder Roger was suspicious of Jim. He listened to Freddie happily ramble about this new Alpha, and exchanged dubious looks with Brian. An Alpha from a club. Nothing good ever came from the guys Freddie met in clubs.

He’d seen too many men treat Freddie like shit. Too many treated him like a toy, or brainless. Too many expected him to give up his whole career, his whole _life,_ because they thought they should be his one and only priority. Some acted like total gents, but were assholes underneath the smiles: they shouted, they threatened, they _hit_ him.

The last time someone had been stupid enough to grab Freddie in front of Roger, to try and strike him, Roger had to be held back from snapping his neck. He’d utterly _lost_ it, his instincts took over, and it took Brian, Miami, Deacy and Freddie himself to hold him back.

So all things considered, of _course_ Roger was suspicious.

“Well then, when can we meet him?” Roger asked, trying to keep his voice light.

Freddie looked delighted that Roger was (seemingly) calm. He seemed happy that his pack weren’t freaking out or demanding every little detail. They knew by now not to hover, demand, or in any way seem controlling.

“Oh, well, he’s free next Friday,” Freddie said brightly. He looked around at them all, he smiled at Roger almost imploringly. “Is that okay, darling?”

“Perfect,” Roger said.

Next Friday. He could do that. 

And if this _Jim Hutton_ didn’t meet his standards, if he at all seemed suspicious or aggressive, Roger would make sure he was kicked out on his ass.

He’d seen Freddie hurt too many times before. He wasn’t going to let it happen again. Not if he could help it.

  
  
  
  
  
  


They all gathered in a pub the next Friday. Roger tapped at the table impatiently, sipping at his beer, telling himself to stay calm. Don’t get paranoid. Don’t get too over-protective. Like Deacy said, they should give the guy a chance. 

That didn’t stop him from tensing when Freddie walked in, his arm linked with Jim’s. He was nearly as tall as Brian, broad-shouldered, a little chubby, with a moustache and neatly styled hair.

He had the good sense to look nervous when Roger smiled at him.

Deacy looked carefully blank, maybe a little bit curious. Brian was smiling, but his eyes were wary.

And Roger? He was smiling, but he knew he radiated aggression.

Right then. Time to see just who this Jim guy was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger 😉 We'll see Roger's shovel talk to Jim either in his next chapter, or Jim's, both of which are planned soon- but up next, we have Kashmira!


	20. Kashmira Bulsara: Fuckin' Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kashmira had been more nervous than she cared to admit when she introduced her boyfriend to her family. Years later, she has Freddie's back when he introduces them to Jim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kashmira's second (and last) chapter! Not long in the story left to go now: we've Roger, Jim, Brian and Maeve to cover, and then we're done 👍
> 
> Some shameless self-promotion 😂 I've started a tumblr for this entire A/B/O world! If you have any questions, prompts or requests (or if you just wanna yell at me about Queen) hit me up: https://i-lay-my-life-before-queen.tumblr.com/

**_“Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood, Miss “No Way It's All Good,” it didn't slow me down. Mistaken, always second guessing, underestimated; look, I'm still around. Pretty, pretty please, don't you ever ever feel like you're less than fuckin' perfect. Pretty pretty please, if you ever, ever feel like you're nothing, you're fuckin' perfect to me!” -Fuckin’ Perfect,_ ** **P!NK**

At first, it felt almost  _ strange  _ to have her brother back. She’d missed him for ten years, yet now he was back, safe and sound.

And here she was, tagging after him the way she used to do, hanging on his every word. Kashmira wanted to know everything: where he’d lived, who he was friends with, what jobs he’d done. She asked a million and one questions about his band, internally snarling whenever she thought of Roger. Sue her, she had every reason to be protective of her Omega brother.

She was in for a shock when they told her they weren’t  _ actually  _ dating. Turns out Roger wanted to protect Freddie too.

She couldn’t help but warm up to the drummer after that. They had common ground.

But her main concern was her brother. He seemed so much  _ happier.  _ He was more confident, he spoke up for himself (and others) more, he didn’t cave when he was told to keep quiet. He held his head high and kept going.

In so many ways he hadn’t changed a bit, and yet he had changed so much too. 

But one thing hadn’t changed: they still happily stuck together, laughing together for hours. She mimicked their mother’s horror over Freddie’s clothes, and Freddie mimicked their father’s rants about modesty and living with two Alphas. They walked around London arm in arm, as Kashmira told him all about her friends and studies, how she was looking at moving out soon.

As always, he listened, taking her utterly seriously; in turn, she took him utterly seriously too.

He fully intended on topping the charts. He’d only get bigger and better from here, he was sure of it.

She believed him. She always had.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Of course he found it  _ hilarious  _ that she met a man named Roger, another Alpha like herself. 

“Oh, shut up,” Kashmira said. “You’re not  _ actually  _ dating Roger anyway!”

“Still funny, darling,” Freddie said, grinning at her. But his smile softened into something more genuine. “You like him? He’s good to you?”

“I do,” Kashmira said, praying she wasn’t blushing, because she’d never live it down. “And he is. He’s the best.”

There was something Kashmira always judged her fellow Alphas on, and she judged them hard: their treatment of Betas and Omegas. Especially Omegas. She just...She couldn’t stay with someone who would look down on her mother, who would treat her brother as a second-class citizen. 

So yes, she was nervous when she brought Roger home to meet her family. 

Jer had gone all out on the food; she’d even gotten flowers for the table, and put on her best dress and pearls. Bomi looked as imposing as ever, a typical Alpha in his perfectly pressed suit, his hair neatly parted, his shoes freshly polished. Freddie turned up with his hair straightened, his eyes lined with kohl, his bangles sliding up and down his arms due to his habit of talking with his hands.

_ Moment of truth,  _ Kash thought when Roger Cooke knocked on the door. If he was rude to her family that was it, he’d be out on his ear.

She’d judged him to be a gentleman, and she was proven right. He turned up with a bottle of wine and a sheepish smile.

“My parents would kill me if I turned up to a dinner empty handed,” he said, which she knew Jer would instantly love him for.

She led him into the living room by the hand: Bomi had taken his favourite armchair as usual, while Freddie and Jer perched together on the sofa. She breathed an internal sigh of relief that no one had mentioned making Freddie kneel.

“Mama, Papa, Freddie- this is Roger. Roger Cooke.”

Bomi stood to shake his hand, staring the younger Alpha down. To do Roger credit, he held Bomi’s gaze without flinching. Bomi raised an eyebrow, almost looking approving. He stepped back to let Roger greet Jer and Freddie; her boyfriend actually kissed her mother’s knuckles, which she hadn’t seen  _ anyone  _ her age do since they arrived in England. It was usually her elders that bothered with that now.

Then Freddie stood up and Kashmira held her breath. It was one of those moments where she knew, she just  _ knew,  _ everything could go wrong. One little moment, and her whole opinion on Roger could be changed for good, in the worst way.

But Roger smiled at her brother and kissed his knuckles too.

Freddie raised his eyebrows, smirking; he caught Kashmira’s eyes and winked at her.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Roger said. “Kashmira always talks about you.”

“All bad things, I’m sure,” Freddie said, grinning, throwing up a hand to hide his teeth. Jer tutted at him and ushered Roger into a seat.

“Dinner’s nearly ready, dear,” she said. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Roger even offered to help Jer in the kitchen. Her mother looked pleasantly surprised, but of course insisted he stay where he was.

“You’re a guest, dear,” she said, and went back into the kitchen. Truth be told, it  _ did  _ smell delicious.

Kashmira sat between her brother and boyfriend on the sofa, watching as Roger patiently answered all of Bomi’s questions (it was an interrogation and they all knew it). It seemed to be going well, and she was surprised by just how nervous she was. She wanted her family to like him. She wanted  _ him  _ to like her family. She just wanted this to go  _ right. _

A gentle hand rested on top of hers, and she looked up to meet Freddie’s warm gaze. Her brother smiled at her, giving her hand a squeeze, and Kash squeezed back.

It was okay. It would all be okay.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Halfway through the evening, Freddie caught her on her way back from the bathroom.

“Mama and Papa seem to like him,” he whispered, to make sure none of them overheard. “Talk about a miracle.”

“And you?” Kashmira asked, clutching his arm, because his opinion  _ mattered  _ to her, probably more than anyone’s. “Do you like him, Fred?”

To her relief, her brother smiled at her, giving her a quick hug. “Relax, Kashi,” he said gently, tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. “He seems sweet. I like him, I promise.”

She could have sworn she physically felt that huge weight leave her shoulders.

It looked like she was right: Roger was a gentleman after all.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Freddie was possibly the most indulgent uncle alive. Her parents would kill her, but as soon as Nathalie was born, she instructed Roger to call Freddie first.

He raced into her room, having ran past Roger in the hall. Her husband stumbled in, panting for breath behind him.

“Kashi, darling!” Freddie cried, running to her so fast she was sure he’d trip. “Are you alright?” He had an absolutely  _ huge  _ bouquet of flowers in the crook of his right arm, and a teddy bear dressed like a princess in the crook of his left. “Is the baby okay?”

“She’s perfect,” Kashmira said proudly. Freddie set the flowers and teddy down, and perched on the edge of her bed, staring at the baby with obvious awe.

“Oh, she looks just like you,” he cooed. His eyes were overly-bright, his smile trembled as he ran a cautious finger over the baby’s thatch of black hair. “Have you got a name yet?”

“Nathalie,” Kashmira said, beaming. “Her name’s Nathalie.” 

Nathalie stared up at them both, and Roger still stood in the doorway shaking his head indulgently.

“She’s beautiful,” Freddie said softly, and for a moment Kashmira could see, mixed with that awe, a level of envy. But her brother shook his head, still cautiously stroking Nathalie’s silky hair.

“You wanna hold her?” Kashmira asked, and Freddie completely lit up. He nodded eagerly, carefully listening to Kashmira’s instructions on how to hold her and support her head.

As she looked at them, it struck her how- how  _ natural  _ he looked. Kashmira and Roger had both been petrified of hurting the baby. Kashmira teased Roger for how awkward he’d been when the nurse first handed Nathalie to him. But Freddie? He looked totally at ease.

Either he was one hell of an actor, or he genuinely just knew what to do.

Well, Omega instinct to nurture and all that.

_ You deserve a baby,  _ she thought. But he’d lost the only one he’d ever carried, and Jer and Bomi kept nagging him about settling down; she knew he liked kids, he’d admitted to her that he wanted one...But right now, there was no baby in sight.

He should have one, she thought. If anyone should be allowed to have as many children as they wanted, it was her brother.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Kashmira kept out of the spotlight, but that didn’t mean she was oblivious. She knew what people said about Freddie: that he was an awful influence, that he was reckless and stupid; he was a slut, he wasn’t even attractive, he was arrogant, he was an  _ Omega, _ so who did he think he was? 

She remembered reading an article about him being the band’s  _ toy.  _ She ripped that newspaper to shreds.

She kept out of the spotlight, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to hunt those reporters down. That didn’t stop her from wanting to scream that Freddie was a  _ good  _ influence. He was brave and kind, with such a big heart. She’d always looked up to him. He spoiled everyone rotten, so long as he loved you.

Kashmira knew he didn’t tell her  _ everything.  _ There were surely plenty of stories she was missing, boyfriends she never even knew about. She didn’t have the full picture, but she heard the rumours, so of  _ course  _ she was worried when he told her he’d met someone.

“What’s his name?” she asked.

“Jim,” he said. He smiled. “Jim Hutton.”

She nodded, wondering if this was one more man after her brother’s money, or one more man who expected him to change into the typical Omega overnight. She wondered how hard Roger Taylor would threaten this guy.

But she smiled and listened as Freddie told her all about him.

“Mama and Papa want to meet him,” Freddie said, biting his lip. She couldn’t blame him for worrying about that, God knew she had, and she knew all too well how picky their parents could be, especially when it came to Freddie.

“I’ll be there,” she promised. She was on his side, no matter what.

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was deja vu: Bomi was in his best suit, Jer was in her best dress, only this time they went to Garden Lodge, Freddie’s (newish) mansion.

She was still overwhelmed by the beauty of the house. The gardens still weren’t  _ quite  _ complete, and she knew there were still some rooms to be finished upstairs, but it was gorgeous, and the whole place just screamed  _ Freddie.  _ From the yellow walls in the living room, to the antique furniture and gilded door handles, everything about Garden Lodge was perfectly tailored to her brother’s tastes.

Jim was already there; he was a tall man, broad, chubby, with kind brown eyes, a moustache and perfectly styled hair. Freddie had mentioned he was a hairdresser, and it showed.

He was clearly nervous, but he shook Bomi’s hand with a smile; he inclined his head to Jer and gave her knuckles a quick kiss, looking rather shy about it. Freddie hovered, nervously eyeing Bomi.

Part of her wanted to- well, to act like an Alpha. To remind this stranger that this was  _ her  _ brother, and if he wanted to date him, he’d better impress her, Alpha to Alpha. Part of her wanted to act tough, to snarl and hold her head high.

But she looked at Freddie, clearly anxious about this whole thing. She looked at Jim, who almost seemed to glow whenever he looked at Freddie.

So she stepped forward with a smile, holding her hand out.

“Kashmira Cooke,” she said, though she couldn’t  _ quite  _ resist gripping Jim’s hand too tightly. “Freddie’s sister.”

She knew her grip must have been hurting, at least a little bit, but Jim still smiled at her.

“Pleasure to meet you, Kashmira.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


To her own surprise, she  _ liked  _ Jim. He was unfailingly polite, referring to their parents as “Mr Bulsara” or “Mrs Bulara,” which Jer and Bomi both clearly approved of. Jer’s smile faltered when she was told Jim was a hairdresser, Bomi frowned, but Kashmira jumped in to ask how he enjoyed it.

Freddie mouthed  _ Thank you  _ at her.

When they finally had a moment alone, Kashmira squeezed his hand.

“I think they like him,” she said.

“I don’t,” Freddie said, rolling his eyes, but he smiled at her all the same. “Do  _ you  _ like him?”

“I do,” Kash said. “I really do.” Because Jim already looked so in love whenever he so much as  _ glanced  _ at Freddie; he watched her brother leave the room with a downright sappy smile. He pulled Freddie’s chair out for him, and seemed in every way, like a perfect gentleman.

“You seem really happy this time,” she said.

Freddie grinned at her, for once not hiding his teeth. Happiness  _ radiated  _ off him.

“I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Brian! 💕


	21. Brian May: Is This The World We Created?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world wasn't fair to Omegas and Brian knew it. That didn't mean he had to smile and accept it. Because surely Freddie, his Freddie, deserved the absolute best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! 2020 isn't real, I refuse to accept it, what the fuck is this? Anyway, hope you all had a fun night! 💕
> 
> The idea of Ruth and Harold meeting Freddie has been on my mind for AGES, as well as the scene that leads to Brian and Freddie writing "Is This The World We Created?" so here we go: some angst, but also some fluff.

**_“Is this the world we created? What did we do it for? Is this the world we invaded, against the law? So it seems in the end. Is this what we're all living for today? The world that we created…” -Is This The World We Created?,_ ** **Queen**

At first, a little part of Brian had been _terrified_ of freaking Freddie out. He didn’t want to come across as some entitled sod, or arrogant. And God, he didn’t want to somehow make Freddie think that Brian wanted to get into his pants. He didn’t. He just wanted to be friends.

And okay, he knew people were _talking._ Once it got out that their new singer was an Omega, there were suddenly all these stupid rumours and lewd comments being thrown around. An Omega living with two Alphas? They were both clearly fucking him.

It shouldn’t have surprised Brian, but it did. He went into class, only to realise a trio of Alphas were whispering together, looking at him and snickering. He knew them, of course, they were in most of his classes, but he’d never actually spoken with them: Liam, Matthew and Shawn.

Eventually, Brian sighed and turned to them. “Out with it,” he demanded, eyes narrowed. “What’re you laughing at?”

“Your new singer’s an Omega right?” Shawn asked, which immediately put Brian on edge.

“Yeah,” he said. “He is.”

“Nice,” Liam asked. He grinned at Brian, looking oddly approving. “He any good?”

“He’s the best,” Brian said, because Freddie _was._ He didn’t understand why the trio laughed, he didn’t understand why Liam wolf-whistled.

“Fancy sharing?” Liam asked- and Brian finally _copped on._ They weren’t asking about _singing._

“Hold on,” Brian said, eyes widening. “Are you- do you think we’re _sleeping_ with him?” He shook his head, curls flying. “Bloody hell, I... _No._ God, he’s just our _friend._ ”

“Sure, Brian,” Shawn said, smiling. “Whatever you say.”

“You don’t need to be embarrassed, mate,” Matthew said. “That’s what they’re _for._ ”

Brian honestly felt sick. How the hell could they talk about Freddie like that? They didn’t even know him! Did they seriously believe that old bullshit? He’d always thought them clever, their grades were usually top notch.

It was startling to realise that even the brightest of the bright could truly believe Omegas were just there to fuck. More than startling, it was actually a little _frightening._

Freddie was no blushing virgin, but _Christ,_ that didn’t make him some sex toy! He was a _person._ He was Brian’s _friend._

He was surprised by just how protective he felt. He was snarling before he could stop himself, and the trio of Alphas flinched back.

“Don’t you _dare_ talk about him like that,” Brian hissed. 

“Okay, okay,” Shawn said, holding his hands up in surrender. “God, you don’t need to be so defensive about it.”

“He’s my friend,” Brian said firmly. “Got that? My _friend._ He’s damn well the best singer I’ve ever heard.” He looked them over and sneered. “And he could do a lot better than the likes of _you._ ”

He turned his back on them, stubbornly ignoring their insults, but by the time the professor arrived his jaw was twitching and his nails dug into the desk.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The thing was, the idea that he or Roger (or both) were sleeping with Freddie was a common one. Right from the start, people expected Freddie to _“earn”_ his place in the band, in their lives, by spreading his legs and following their orders.

Brian had often thought that Omegas deserved equal rights, but the whole situation was one hell of a wake-up call. As awful as it sounded, the way Omegas were treated...Well, it was the norm. There were some things that even Brian hadn’t questioned. Sure, he had Omega friends, but he’d never _lived_ with them before, he’d never worked so closely with one before.

There were things he simply couldn’t ignore now.

It was little things: people always expecting Freddie to move aside for them, or give his seat up on the tube or bus. People would push him aside without sparing him a glance. He was cat-called, shouted after- hell, the first time Brian saw someone slap Freddie’s arse he nearly flipped entirely. The harassment was so casual that other passerbys didn’t even blink.

Then, of course, there was the big things. His lack of equal pay, his skewed legal rights and lack of protection. If Freddie was assaulted tomorrow Brian knew he could expect to be grilled as if it was his fault. The majority of rape cases didn’t make it to court. Most of the time there weren’t even any arrests. Freddie could be turned down from a job for being an Omega; colleges could turn him away too. There were certain pubs, clubs and places of business that didn’t even allow Omegas on the premises. 

It made Brian’s blood boil every time; and honestly, he felt disappointed in _himself_ for not _really_ seeing until now. He’d thought that Omegas deserved equal rights, but...But he hadn’t _listened,_ he hadn’t _seen,_ not really. Not in a way that counted.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Brian loved his parents dearly. He’d always striven for their approval. He’d looked up to them all his life.

So to say he was disappointed in them when they learned about Freddie was an understatement. They hadn’t been impressed to hear his new lead singer was an Omega, much less that he, Roger and Freddie were all _living_ together.

“An Omega will be too much of a distraction,” Harold said firmly. “It’s not a good idea, son. How will you study with that around?”

_That._ It left a bad taste in Brian’s mouth.

“He should be living at home,” Harold continued. “Not with two Alphas he’s just met! What does that say about him?”

“Freddie’s an orphan,” Brian snapped, and there was a long pause on his father’s end. There was a faint static noise over the phone, before Harold sighed.

“Ah,” he said, and Brian had never heard his father sound so awkward. “I see. That’s...Well then. Has he any family at all?”

“None,” Brian said. He’d asked, and Freddie had shaken his head, biting his lip until it bled.

There was another pause before Harold said, “Well, just don’t let him distract you,” and then his father quickly changed the subject to Brian’s studies.

That had been bad enough, but then his parents actually _met_ Freddie.

They didn’t give Brian much warning: it was near Christmas and they rang that morning to say they were popping by. Roger had gone out to finish some last minute shopping, so it was just Brian and Freddie in the flat. Freddie was in his room, wrapping presents.

Brian was suddenly very _very_ wary about letting Harold and Ruth meet Freddie. He loved them, God knew he did, but he was certain they’d say something embarrassing, or (heaven forbid) be stupid enough to ask about Freddie’s parents.

“Fred?” Brian knocked on Freddie’s door, and it opened a crack; he could see only one of Freddie’s big brown eyes staring up at him.

“Yes, darling?”

“Er- my parents are coming over,” Brian said, and Freddie opened the door properly. The presents were all wrapped on his bed, surrounded by torn up strands of wrapping paper.

“Oh,” Freddie said, eyes wide. “Do you want me to stay in here? I could leave if-”

“No! No, that’s not what I’m getting at, I just...I just don’t want them to say something stupid, you know?”

Freddie nodded and Brian rubbed at the back of his neck.

“I don’t want them to make you uncomfortable,” he said. 

“I’m sure they won’t,” Freddie said, and Brian appreciated it, even if they both knew it was a very real possibility. But more than anything, he didn’t want to make Freddie feel like he had to hide in his own home.

Brian had never been very good at standing up to his parents. It was something Roger despaired over. But in this case? In this case, Brian was suddenly sure he could.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Both of Brian’s parents were Alphas. The day he’d presented they’d been utterly _delighted,_ calling up the rest of their family, even calling their friends to tell them “the wonderful news!” Ruth had even wanted to throw a party, and Brian had had to _beg_ her not to.

He was an Alpha like them but he still felt very small and awkward when they swaned into his tiny flat. He fretted about the faded, worn-out carpet, the dark patch on the ceiling, the narrow hallway, and the chipped paint on the bathroom door. He knew they expected better for him, _from_ him.

He pasted a smile on anyway, hugging them and letting his mum fuss over his hair and tut about how skinny he was.

Freddie hovered uncertainly in the kitchen doorway, glancing almost longingly down the hall, towards his room. He looked like a deer in the headlights when Harold and Ruth noticed him. He clasped his hands tightly, looking at the ground, avoiding their critical stares. Brian knew him well enough to know he was nervous, shyness taking over.

To Brian’s surprise, Ruth utterly _beamed._

“Well aren’t you lovely?” she cooed. Brian winced when she pinched Freddie’s cheek, but Freddie managed a tight smile. “What’s your name, dear?”

“I’m Freddie Bulsara, Mrs May,” he said, glancing towards Brian. If it was any other day they both would have been in their pyjamas, but they were fully dressed; Brian had put on his best jeans and one of his favourite jumpers, and Freddie wore his green shirt with a pair of gold bangles. 

Harold nodded at Freddie. “Good to finally meet you,” he said. “Harold and Ruth May.”

If Brian was honest, he expected an imminent disaster. He wouldn’t put it past either of them to say something like _So, you’re an orphan?_ or _Where are you from? No, where are you REALLY from?_ or even, _Have you always had that overbite?_

Thankfully, Ruth just rambled about traffic as Brian took hers and Harold’s coats. Freddie glanced towards his room again, and Ruth turned to him with a smile. “Why don’t you go and put the kettle on, dear?” she asked, very sweetly as if Freddie was a child. “There’s a poppet.”

_“Mum!”_ Brian gasped, utterly fucking _mortified._ Ruth looked at him with a confused little frown, but Freddie took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He breathed out, stiffly smiling.

“Of course,” he said, and Brian saw his face morph into a furious scowl as he turned away.

“Oh my _God,_ Mum,” Brian said as Harold and Ruth sat on the sofa. “What the hell?”

“Don’t swear at your mother,” Harold said.

“Whatever’s the matter, sweetheart?” Ruth asked. 

“You just- you’re talking to him like he’s _six!_ ” He hung their coats on the rack, and willed himself to keep his nerve. “It’s just...Mum, it’s his home too, he’s not some maid. It was rude.”

“I just asked him to put the kettle on,” Ruth said. “He’s an Omega, dear, leave him be; they like being told what to do.”

“Makes it easier for them,” Harold added. “They don’t think like we do, Brian.”

It hit him hard then, just how different their views were. How different their generations were. A tiny part of him came to life then, a part of him that wanted to kick them right out of his flat.

He didn’t, and he tried to pretend the thought didn’t cross his mind at all.

Ruth glanced towards the kitchen. “He’s single, isn’t he? I can’t smell an Alpha on him.”

“He’s single,” Brian confirmed warily, taking the armchair.

Ruth nodded. “Hm...Maybe consider it, dear? He seems sweet.”

“Oh my _God,_ ” Brian groaned, burying his face in his hands. _“Mum!”_

“She has a point, son,” Harold said. He raised his eyebrows. “I hope you’ve been behaving like a gentleman?”

“Yes, I have, because _we’re not-_ ” He cut himself off when Freddie came back in, carrying cups of tea on the old flower-patterned tray he’d brought from his old flat. He’d even gotten out his own tea-set, the white set with roses on it. If Brian was honest, he appreciated it; it was the type of thing his parents would notice.

He’d only poured three cups, and Brian couldn’t blame him. He was about to make some excuse about Freddie having plans when Harold said, “Are you not joining us?”

Freddie froze. “Um…”

“Well grab a cup and have a seat, dear,” Ruth said, nodding towards the empty spot next to her. Freddie and Brian exchanged helpless glances before Freddie nodded and went to get his own cup. Harold looked at Brian as if to say _See? Orders._

Brian _saw_ alright. He saw how Freddie sat tensely, clearly prepared to flee at a moment’s notice. He saw how his friend kept his eyes on the floor and kept fiddling with his bangles. He saw how quiet Freddie was, the quietest that Brian had ever seen him.

He hated it.

“Are you seeing anyone, Freddie?” Ruth asked. Freddie shook his head, frowning at his lap. Ruth’s smile widened, while Harold sipped his tea. His father asked the usual questions about Brian’s studies and exams, when he could expect his exam results, what the workload was like...And Ruth kept slipping in “My Brian’s so clever,” and “He’s so accomplished for someone his age, don’t you think?” Freddie just smiled and nodded.

“And what do you do, Freddie?” Harold asked.

“I’m studying art and design,” Freddie said, and both parents gaped at him.

“You’re...In college?” Harold asked slowly, like he wasn’t quite sure what he was hearing.

Finally, there was some light in Freddie’s eyes and he sat up straighter. “Yes,” he said. “I am.”

“He’s brilliant,” Brian said, folding his arms. “Designs a lot of his own stuff.”

“Well that’s...Certainly something,” Ruth said.

“And what do your pare-” Harold thankfully stopped himself, clearing his throat gruffly. “Hm. That’s...Interesting, Freddie. Anyway, Brian, how did your last exam go? Study hard?”

Brian quickly jumped into babbling about college and the band, and yes he _was_ eating and sleeping enough, yes he most certainly was keeping out of trouble.

Freddie quietly slipped into the kitchen. Brian quickly drained the last of his tea and followed him.

“Fred, I’m so sorry,” he said as soon as the door was shut. “God, they’re just- they’re...I’m sorry.”

“I’ve heard worse,” Freddie said with a wry smile. He shrugged uncomfortably, leaning against the counter. “Trust me, darling, my parents were worse. I can handle it.”

“Your...Oh.” Freddie never talked about his parents. He wouldn’t tell Brian or Roger how they died. He’d even been reluctant to say their names. Brian hadn’t given much thought to what they would be like, so it hadn’t really occurred to him that they...Well, that they might have been traditional. Maybe they would have been shocked Freddie was in college too.

“I’m sorry, Fred,” he repeated helplessly.

“It’s _fine,_ darling,” Freddie said, smiling gently at him. “Really, I promise.” He squeezed Brian’s hand and pushed him towards the door. “Now come on, shoulders back, smile on, and back to your battle station.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


As his parents left, Harold said, “Your mother has a point, son. Maybe you should consider it. He seems modest enough, amicable. The college thing is unusual, I grant you, but other than that he seems like a good Omega.”

“And such beautiful eyes,” Ruth gushed. “A boy like that will have plenty of Alphas trying to court him, dear, be quick about it. At least _think_ about it.”

Brian grit his teeth, trying very hard not to snarl. He didn’t know how he managed to smile.

“I’ll think about it,” he said. Yes, he’d keep thinking about how _stupid_ it was. His mother gave him one last hug, his father patted him on the shoulder, and they left.

Finally, Brian could _breathe_ again.

He turned to Freddie and hugged his friend tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he said yet again. “Bloody hell, that was so embarrassing, I can’t believe them. I’m sorry, Freddie.”

“Darling, I keep telling you, _it’s okay._ I can handle it.” Freddie hugged him back just as tightly. “You don’t need to be so flustered, love.”

Brian was still mortified all the same.

But when he met Jer and Bomi? When he spent time with them? When he met the extended Bulsara family? He fully understood then, why Freddie smiled at Ruth and Harold like it was nothing. But Brian was still embarrassed, and still left with the uncomfortable realisation that he so fundamentally disagreed with his parents. That he was embarrassed by their old fashioned views. That he was much more different from them than he cared to admit.

  
  
  
  
  
  


All things considered, it was no wonder that they wrote _Is This The World We Created?_

He came into Freddie’s flat to find his friend curled up on the sofa, staring blankly at the TV. It was the news, another Omega Rights march, out in San Francisco. Five arrests, three dead, ten in hospital with serious injuries. The footage showed shots of the streets, interviews with witnesses; they most interviewed Alphas who proclaimed Omegas “a bunch of hysterical, ungrateful good-for-nothings!” That was the politest term anyway. 

And then another Omega Rights march in Australia, another in England, another in France. Some peaceful protests, some violent. 

“Freddie?” Brian sat next to him, resting a hand on Freddie’s shoulder. “Fred, are you okay?”

“No,” Freddie said, eyes still glued to the screen. They were interviewing an Omega woman out in France; she was pleading for equal rights, for protection. Her friend had been raped, she said, and the police had thrown her friend out of the station, accusing her of lying. She had a married friend whose Alpha had forbidden him from seeing their children. She had been turned down from three jobs for being an Omega.

An Omega couple in China had been found dead in their apartment. Police had ruled it a double suicide, but a group of their friends accused the Omegas’ families of killing them.

“I keep thinking…” Freddie closed his eyes, leaning against Brian. “Say if I _could_ have a child, and that child was an Omega...What then? I couldn’t protect them, not really.”

It was a constant fear of Brian’s. His kids weren't old enough to present yet, not even close...But it was a fear he had all the same. Could he protect them? If they were Omegas, he couldn’t change the law. He couldn’t protect them from everyone and everything. It was simply impossible, let alone in a world like this.

“Sometimes I just can’t believe this is the world we live in,” Freddie said quietly.

“Yeah,” Brian said, sighing. “Me neither. It’s not fair. None of it is.”

Poverty, war, discrimination, racism, abuse...Add it all up, and it wasn’t a promising world at all.

He wanted to _do_ something, but he wasn’t a politician, or in any sort of law enforcement. What could he really do? He was a musician…

But music was more powerful than people gave it credit for.

They had an outlet. They just had to raise their voices.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Brian had never been so proud than he was at Live Aid. They utterly _owned_ that crowd, they owned the _world._

_Freddie_ owned the world. Brian’s best friend, his pack mate, his _brother._ Their tiny Omega, the one everyone constantly underestimated; the one the press abused again and again, and yet here he was, singing his heart out, enchanting millions of people all over the world.

The world told Freddie he wasn’t good enough time and time again, yet now the whole world was eating out of the palm of his hand.

As they waited in the wings to go back on stage, to sing _Is This The World We Created,_ Brian turned to him with a grin, and parroted Roger: “Ready, Freddie?”

Freddie, dressed all in white, beamed at him, eyes shining. “Let’s fucking do it, darling.”

Brian offered his arm, and Freddie took it. Arms linked, they went back on stage, prepared to do what they did best: put everyone under their spell, and prove the critics wrong. To bewitch them all.

At the end of the day, Brian couldn’t imagine ever doing this without him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With any luck I may be able to squeeze in one more Rami chapter if I can only come up with a few more scenes to fill it in 😂 Otherwise, we'll be moving onto Roger or Jim next.


	22. Roger Taylor: Be Somebody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger had sworn to protect Freddie and he would no matter what. If Jim wanted to be with Freddie, he'd have to impress Roger first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roger's last chapter! Onwards to the Roger and Jim interrogation...

**_“After all the lights go down, I'm just the words, you are the sound. A strange type of chemistry, how you've become a part of me; and when I sit alone at night, your thoughts burn through me like a fire. You're the only one who knows who I really am. We all wanna be somebody, we just need a taste of who we are. We all wanna be somebody, we're willing to go, but not that far.” -Be Somebody,_ ** **Thousand Foot Krutch**

You could have cut the tension with a knife.

Brian and Deacy made polite conversation with Jim- hell, Jim and Deacy were soon laughing like old friends- but he eyed Roger warily. Freddie gave him a pleading glance, but Roger stared Jim down.

He wanted to date Freddie? He’d better understand that Roger was the one to impress. They all knew it. If Bomi didn’t like Jim it would be shit, but they all knew Freddie would date the guy regardless of his parents’ responses. He may even ignore it if Brian and Deacy didn’t like him. But if  _ Roger  _ didn’t like him?

That could so easily ruin things. 

He seemed nice, Roger supposed. Polite. He looked at Freddie like he hung the sun and moon.

Roger didn’t trust him all the same.

He’d seen that before. That doe-eyed look, that sappy smile. Each and every time, it had been a lie. Well- no, not every time, he supposed. There’d been Joe and David. There’d been a few guys, here and there, who meant well, but it simply hadn’t worked out.

But too many times, far too many times, those sweet gestures had been lies.

Roger refused to let Freddie go through that again.

He wouldn’t say he was  _ rude  _ to Jim. He just kept quiet, eyes narrowed, watching the other Alpha’s every move. Jim’s smile had a nervous edge to it whenever their eyes met.  _ Good.  _ Maybe he understood how things worked around here after all.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Their first meeting was tense. Jim got along with Brian and Deacy, but Roger refused to be swayed so easily. 

Towards the end of the evening, Freddie pulled him aside.

“Well?” he asked. “Do you like him, darling?”

Roger looked at the sheer  _ hope  _ in Freddie’s eyes and instantly weakened.

“He’s...Okay, I guess,” he said. Freddie sighed, squeezing his arm.

“Please just  _ try  _ and get along with him,” Freddie said, giving him those damn puppy eyes, and Roger was helpless to disagree.

“Okay,” Roger said, sighing. “Okay. I’ll try.” 

Because as wary as he was, he’d do anything Freddie asked.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Roger didn’t really spend any alone time with Jim. There wasn’t much opportunity for it, and at first Roger was wary about inviting Jim out. But he’d promised Freddie. And besides, Roger needed to see how this guy would act without Freddie around.

So Roger, reluctant as he may be, invited Jim out for drinks. He could admit he was surprised when Jim accepted.

  
  
  
  
  
  


They met up in the pub where Freddie first introduced Jim to the group.

Jim looked nervous, and what Freddie dubbed Roger’s  _ Alpha Brain  _ was positively gleeful about it. The rest of him said to be calm about this. Be fair. Really try and get to know the guy.

But as soon as they sat down, Roger blurted out, “What do you want?”

“Pardon?” Jim asked, blinking rapidly.

“From Freddie,” Roger clarified. “What do you want from him? Money? Fame? Drugs, parties?  _ What? _ ”

“Nothing!” Jim protested, drawing back in shock. “Jesus, Roger, I just-”

“You just  _ what? _ ” Roger demanded.

“I just want…” Jim was going red and Roger’s eyes narrowed, but Jim said, “I just want  _ him. _ ”

Well then. What do you know? Roger lowered his drink, eyeing Jim warily, more surprised than he cared to admit, because when was the last time he heard someone say that about Fred? Far too long ago.

Jim looked  _ mortified,  _ but Roger finally smirked at him.

“Do you mean that?” he asked.

“Of course,” Jim said. He looked Roger in the eye with a stubborn frown. “He’s- he’s amazing.”

“He is,” Roger agreed, folding his arms. “He’s the best person I know, and he  _ deserves  _ the best.” Jim nodded, and Roger let himself snarl. “I mean it, Jim. Freddie’s my best friend. And I swore I’d look after him, got it? He’s kind, and funny, and clever,  _ so  _ much more clever than the press gives him credit for. He always does his best to look after people, but hardly anyone’s ever looked after him. Some people think it’s okay to hurt him because he’s an Omega.” 

Jim nodded again, eyes solemn. “He’s told me some of it,” he said quietly. “Like that guy that broke into his old flat earlier this year.”

Not  _ quite  _ what Roger was getting at, but still a damn good example.

“He’s been through hell and back,” Roger said. “He’s so much stronger than you realise.”

“He’s no Omega in distress, that’s for sure,” Jim said with a smile, and Roger finally grinned.

“You’re right about that,” he said, and Jim grinned back at him. But Roger quickly stopped smiling, staring Jim down again.

“Well then. Freddie’s brilliant, and you seem to get that. Maybe you’re genuine. Maybe you really do just want him.”

“I didn’t know who he was, I swear,” Jim said, and Roger nodded. Freddie had mentioned that, utterly delighted.

“So I hear. But here’s the thing, Jim: how do I really know you’re not just going to let him down?”

Jim frowned, sitting up straighter. “I suppose you’ll just have to trust me.”

Trust him. His instincts screamed at him not to. A part of him wanted to snarl and growl, to show that  _ he  _ was the one who looked after Freddie. He was the one to impress and win over. He’d seen this shit too many times, far too many times.

Yet Jim seemed utterly sincere. His expression was open, honest. No aggression to be seen. 

“If you hurt him at all,” Roger eventually growled. “If you make him cry, scare him, upset him at all-”

“You’ll kill me?” Jim asked with a wry smile.

“Oh no,” Roger said.  _ “I’ll ruin your fucking life.” _

Slowly, Jim nodded. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“So long as we’re on the same page,” Roger said.

  
  
  
  
  
  


As it turned out, they  _ were  _ on the same page. Jim meant it. He looked after Freddie; he seemed utterly smitten. He watched Freddie walk away with a smile, he was in every way, a gentleman.

Roger slowly began to relax around him. Slowly but surely, Roger began to trust him.

This time, finally, Freddie wasn’t let down.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The press constantly speculated about them. Right from the start, the press had pried into their  _ “relationship,”  _ asking all sorts of nosey questions. They came up with wild rumours and accusations, watching Roger and Freddie’s every move.

Even after their so-called break-up, the press hounded them. Every sign of affection was seen as proof that they were getting back together. 

Sometimes, it utterly baffled Roger. Because yes, he loved Freddie, he loved Freddie so much, but he didn’t want him like  _ that.  _ There’d been some... _ moments  _ during their fake relationship; will-we-won’t-we moments, but it had never led anywhere.

He knew a lot of people would laugh at him for it, or call him nuts, but Roger was actually  _ glad  _ it hadn’t led anywhere. Freddie had simply needed a friend, and Roger had been happy to protect him. He’d do it all again in a heartbeat if he was asked. Hell, he’d do it without being asked. He loved Freddie to bits, that didn’t mean he was  _ in love  _ with him.

Roger was never quite sure what Freddie saw in him, that convinced Freddie that Roger was  _ good,  _ when he’d spent so many years believing the opposite. Because  _ Freddie  _ was good, he was sweet and kind, right down to his core. He was dramatic, he could be a right bitch, he was stubborn as hell...But he was still so  _ gentle.  _ He was everything that Roger  _ wasn’t.  _

But time and time again, Freddie told Roger that he was good.

The first Christmas they’d known each other, Roger had refused to leave Freddie alone, so he offered two options: he could stay in the flat with Freddie, or Freddie could come to Truro with him. At first, Freddie had protested against  _ either  _ option, insisting he’d be fine alone, he didn’t want to impose...But Roger felt  _ sick  _ at the idea of leaving Freddie all alone on Christmas.

The fact that Freddie had spent every Christmas alone the last few years didn’t help matters. It just strengthened Roger’s resolve.

In the end, Freddie agreed (albeit reluctantly) to go to Truro. He’d been quiet as a mouse at first, all but hiding behind Roger when Winifred greeted him. He was so shy, so quiet, sticking close to Roger’s side, especially when other relatives (and some neighbours) came by, popping in and out. 

But that night, when they were crowded together in Roger’s old bed, Freddie said, “Thanks, Roggie.”

“What for?” Roger asked, eyes drooping in exhaustion. They’d ended up spooning, and Roger had his face pressed in Freddie’s hair.

“For inviting me,” Freddie said, peering at Roger over his shoulder. Quietly, he added, “Your mama’s nice.”

“She is,” Roger agreed with a sleepy smile.

“She speaks to me like I’m clever,” Freddie said, so quietly that Roger wasn’t sure he was meant to hear it. “My mama didn’t.”

His grip on Freddie tightened and he pulled him in closer. “You  _ are  _ clever.”

For a while they were quiet. Roger was half-asleep when Freddie spoke up again. “Merry Christmas, darling.”

“Hm?”

“It’s midnight,” Freddie said, lazily gesturing to the clock next to the bed. “Merry Christmas.”

Grinning, Roger reached up to squeeze Freddie’s hand. “Merry Christmas, Fred.”

It was such a small moment, but Roger remembered it clear as day: how he’d felt warm, and safe and happy. How Freddie had been happy, soon falling asleep in Roger’s arms, and Roger had been so sure he could look after Freddie, that he could make his new friend smile, and keep him from being alone again.

And he did. Always.

He’d made a promise once, to protect Freddie, to look after him, and Roger didn’t regret it, not even for a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've a scenario in mind where Roger drags Freddie to Truro with him for Christmas (as seen here), but God knows when I'll get around to writing that 😂  
> I also wanna write Theo snippets. Will I finish this series anytime soon? Who knows, I sure don't, but I'm having fun.


	23. Jim Hutton: Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim knew very well that Freddie could look after himself. That didn't stop him from wanting to keep Freddie safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jim's last chapter! In which he learns Freddie and Roger didn't date, puts a pervert in his place, and dotes on his husband.

**_“We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January; this is our place, we make the rules. And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear. Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years? Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close? Forever and ever? And (ah) take me out, and take me home. You're my, my, my, my lover.” -Lover,_ ** **Taylor Swift**

Jim never liked being stared at, but for once he didn’t mind. Their first dance as a married couple, and all eyes were on them. For once, Jim didn’t care about all the eyes following them. He barely noticed. He was so focussed on Freddie, beaming up at him with all the joy in the world,

“I love you,” Jim told. They weren’t doing much more than swaying on the spot by this point. 

If possible, Freddie’s smile widened. “I love you too, darling.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Jim never would have expected to have fallen for a rockstar. He didn’t want the limelight, or fame and fortune. Yet here he was all the same.

He’d been surprised by just how protective Freddie’s friends were. Even with the warning in advance, it had come as a surprise. The biggest shock was Roger; clearly mistrustful, glaring, even snarling. But still, Jim could understand. God knew they had every reason to be protective.

He knew next to nothing about  _ Queen,  _ so it came as yet another surprise when his friend Tom gave a low whistle and said, “You survived  _ Roger?  _ Bloody hell.”

“I take it he’s known for snarling?” Jim asked.

“Snarling? Mate, he’s known for ripping people’s heads off for getting anywhere  _ near  _ Freddie!” Tom shrugged, looking slightly baffled. “I don’t get why they’re not still together, honestly. If you ask me, Roger still wants him.”

“Oh don’t be daft,” Steven said, rolling his eyes, but Jim did a double take.

“Wait- they  _ dated?  _ Freddie and Roger?  _ Seriously? _ ”

“They did,” Steven confirmed.

“Everyone was obsessed with them,” Tom said. “God, the fans lost it when they broke up. My cousin  _ cried. _ ”

If anything, Jim was just shocked it hadn’t come up before. Surely Freddie should have mentioned it? It...Kind of explained Roger’s behaviour. Oh God, maybe Tom had a point and Roger  _ did  _ still want Freddie.

He felt horribly embarrassed to bring it up (what if he sounded like some jealous maniac?), but he did.

“Er, Fred?” They were both lying in Jim’s bed, Freddie pressed as closely against him as he could manage.

“Yes, darling?”

“I...Listen, my friend Tom said something…”

Freddie pushed himself up on one arm, frowning. “What?” he asked warily, eyes narrowed.

“He- well, look, he mentioned that you and Roger used to date,” Jim said. Freddie’s eyes widened, and before he could say anything, Jim ploughed on; “Which is fine. Obviously it’s fine, it’s nothing to  _ do  _ with me, really, but...He made a good point and- Fred, do you think that maybe Roger still wants you?”

Freddie stared at him, eyes wider than ever. He started to smile. He giggled- and then he burst into full blown laughter, falling onto his back, hands pressed over his mouth.

" _ Freddie!  _ It’s not funny!”

“Oh,  _ darling! _ ” Freddie wheezed. “No, no, we- oh, darling no, we never dated!”

_ “What?”  _ Jim sat up straight, staring down at his cackling boyfriend. “But- but Tom and Steven said it was in all the papers?”

“It was,” Freddie agreed. His laughter stopped, his smile had a nervous edge to it. “Rog was just trying to protect me.”

“Protect you?” Jim repeated blankly. Freddie nodded, sitting up again and taking Jim’s hands.

“I haven’t told you about EMI,” he said quietly. “Have I?”

“No,” Jim said. Freddie sighed, his eyes sad.

“Right,” he said. “Well. Best get this over with. You see, it started when we first met Reid and Paul- Paul was staring, so Roger decided to scare him off. He was...Well, he was making me nervous, honestly. We weren’t going to keep it up, but then we actually met Foster and saw the contract and..” Freddie ducked his head, biting his lip. “At first glance it seemed okay. It said any single Omega would be assigned an Alpha by EMI executives. Supposedly to manage their finances. But if you read between the lines...Well, they expected to get a new sex toy for the duration of the contract.”

_ “What?”  _ Just like that, Jim was snarling, fighting back of a growl because the thought of anyone touching Freddie,  _ his  _ Freddie, was enough to make his blood boil.

Freddie nodded, his grip on Jim’s hands tightening. “So we kept pretending. Reid had already told Foster I was  _ claimed,  _ so...So we just went along with it.” He glanced at Jim and said, “It didn’t always work.”

“What do you mean?” Jim asked, dreading the answer. God, was Freddie about to tell him that some sleazy executive had raped him after all?

“Don’t suppose you’ve ever seen our nude photoshoot?” Freddie asked with a weak smile, and Jim’s heart sank. He shook his head, and Freddie told him everything. Absolutely everything. The more Freddie told him, the sicker Jim felt. Verbal abuse, sexual harassment, the constant threat of rape hanging over his head...Being shut down was too good for EMI if you asked him. Far too good.

He didn’t know Ray Foster, Paul Prenter, or Norman Sheffield; he’d never even heard of them until then, but he hated them all the same.

  
  
  
  
  
  


A drinking buddy, Charlie, wolf-whistled when the news finally broke to the public. He was more Tom’s friend than Jim’s; Jim had never hung out with him alone for longer than five minutes.

“You’re with  _ Freddie Mercury? _ ” Charlie asked, incredulous. “As in  _ that  _ Freddie Mercury?”

“Do you know any other ones?” Steven asked with a laugh. “There’s only one Freddie Mercury.”

Jim couldn’t help but smile at that. He certainly didn’t know anyone else like Freddie.

Charlie looked impressed, more impressed than Jim had ever seen him. “Well done, mate,” he said, raising his glass of beer in a salute. “He can put his fucking legs over his head!”

“I’m aware,” Jim said dryly.

“And his  _ arse- _ ”

_ “I get it,”  _ Jim said, raising his voice. Charlie shut up, smiling in surrender, but the next time they met up, he brought a piece of paper.

“Could you ask him to sign this?” he asked, holding it out to Jim.

It was a black and white photo of Freddie from the 70s; completely naked bar a thin armlet, lying on a bed of roses with his arms raised, one leg slightly raised and just  _ barely  _ covering what needed covering. His head was slightly tilted, hair fanning out around him, pouting.

For a split second, Jim’s face flushed, his heart pounded- but then he really  _ looked.  _ There was utter terror in Freddie’s eyes, and he couldn’t stand it.

He remembered how shame faced Freddie had been when he told Jim about the ‘shoot, about all those people staring and laughing, putting their hands where they weren’t wanted.

He wanted to rip that photo to shreds. To rip any existing photos to shreds.

“Jesus Christ, Charlie!” Steven snapped. “You heard the stories about the photoshoot, why do you still  _ have  _ that?”

Jim was snarling, fists clenched with the effort of not grabbing that photo and destroying it. It was wrinkled, clearly held often.

Charlie scoffed. “He was lying,” he said dismissively. “He’s an Omega, you know what they’re like. They  _ like  _ this kind of stuff.”

That did it.

Jim snatched the photo and tore it half- and tore it again and again, until it was in tiny shreds.

“If I catch you talking about him like that again,” he growled. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

Shock alone seemed to keep Charlie from throwing a punch. Jim and Steven left quickly. There was a short pause before Tom followed them.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Jim didn’t think he’d ever felt so protective of someone before, not in his whole life. He knew perfectly well that Freddie could handle himself, yet all he wanted was to wrap Freddie up, and keep him safe and warm.

That need only increased when Freddie fell pregnant.

He utterly fretted whenever Freddie went to the studio; it got to the point that Freddie simply brought Jim along, to give him peace of mind.

“I know the feeling,” Deacy said with a sympathetic smile. “I always hated leaving Ronnie alone.” Brian and Roger both nodded in sympathy as well. 

“Does it get any easier?” Jim asked hopefully. The three bandmates looked at each other, then turned back to him.

“No,” they chorused.

“But it’s worth it,” Deacy added. “Really worth it.”

He looked at Freddie, beginning to show, clearly sleepy and rubbing at his back with a frown, and he nodded. Because it was worth it. So very worth it. It always would be.

“Are you okay, darling?” Jim called, and Freddie turned away from Miami with a rueful little smile.

“Exhausted,” he admitted. “And we haven’t even started.”

At that, Miami practically leaped to offer Freddie anything he wanted from a seat to a hot water bottle.  _ Everyone  _ hovered, constantly asking Freddie if he was okay, if he needed anything, but it was Jim he clung to, yawning in between song takes.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jim asked quietly and Freddie nodded with another yawn, leaning against Jim’s side. He looked so small all of a sudden, so very delicate, and Jim couldn’t stand the idea of anyone, or anything, bringing him and their baby harm.

  
  
  
  
  
  


In the end, he wanted to eat his own words, because the pregnancy was fraught with sickness and pain. It seemed like Freddie couldn’t catch a break at all.

And then the hemorrhage.

Jim could honestly say he’d never been so terrified in his life. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d prayed so much. Even when Freddie was awake, Jim was terrified. He was certain that something would go wrong again, and he’d lose Freddie for good.

But despite the terror, he couldn’t help but smile as he watched Freddie hold Maeve. Their daughter was sleeping, her little mouth hanging open, and Freddie was practically glowing with joy, seemingly unable to look away from her.

Well, he  _ had  _ promised his mother a picture…

Jim grabbed his camera from his bag and snapped a photo.

“What are you doing?” Freddie cried, though he was laughing, ducking his head and trying to angle himself away. “I look awful!”

“You look beautiful,” Jim insisted, and Freddie stuck his tongue out.

“You’re full of shit,” he said, grinning. “Absolute bullshit, darling.”

“Maybe,” Jim said, shrugging. “But you’re still beautiful.” He smiled at Maeve, gently sitting on the edge of the bed, though Freddie still winced. “And so is she.”

Freddie ran a careful finger over Maeve’s rosy cheek, eyes softening. “She is,” he agreed quietly. He glanced at Jim, his smile a little more tired, a little more sad. “We’ll be fine, darling.”

“I know,” Jim said, but he couldn’t quite look Freddie in the eye. Gently, Freddie took his hand, his engagement and wedding rings catching the light.

“Jim,” he said. “We’ll be fine. She’s fine, see?”

“But  _ you’re  _ not,” Jim said, looking at him again. Freddie was too pale, with dark circles under his eyes, clearly in pain no matter what he did. He couldn’t even stand without help. 

“Maybe so,” Freddie agreed. “But I  _ will  _ be. You know that.”

Jim nodded, though he wasn’t so sure about that. But Freddie smiled at him. “Besides,” his husband added. “I have you to look after me- and be at my every beck and call.”

That at least got a laugh out of Jim. He leaned in to kiss Freddie, delighting in Freddie’s happy little hum.

“Aren’t I always?” he asked, teasing, and Freddie grinned.

“I love you, darling,” Freddie said, and Jim squeezed his hand, smiling down at their rings.

“I love you too, Fred.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure: I have a lot David Minns headcanons. If his chapter in progress ends up longer than expected, I'll make it into its own one shot. Otherwise it'll be added in here later.
> 
> Hoping to squeeze one more Rami chapter in, but if not we'll be moving on to Maeve!


	24. Rami Malek: We Are The Champions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rami's feeling pretty emotional at the Golden Globes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more Rami chapter! I had to go re-watch his Golden Globes speech for this, and now I'm emotional 😂

**_“We are the champions, my friends; and we'll keep on fighting 'til the end. We are the champions. We are the champions. No time for losers, ‘cause we are the champions of the world! I've taken my bows, and my curtain calls. You brought me fame and fortune, and everything that goes with it. I thank you all…” -We Are The Champions,_ ** **Queen**

Rami had been bowled over by the movie’s reception. Obviously, you couldn’t please everyone, but the overwhelming majority loved the movie. If you believed the rumours, there were already whispers of a sequel back at Fox.

Sometimes he still couldn’t quite believe how much things had changed. He felt more confident and less shy. He had so many new friends- he had a _pack._ Whatever else came his way, he had Gwil, Ben and Joe. 

To his shock, he had _Queen_ too. He had Freddie. They had his back as well.

Blood, sweat and tears had gone into this film. There were times when Rami had wondered if they could really pull this off at all. Add in Bryan Singer, and there were times when Rami felt well and truly _hopeless._

But in the end, it had all worked out. They made their movie, they proved everyone wrong. They pulled it off, and they made a damn _good_ film, even if Rami said so himself.

They were up for the Golden Globe Awards. He was up for Best Actor, and his head was still reeling. He’d been nominated for similar awards, but he hadn’t won so far. He’d only been nominated, or received some sort of honourable mention. Some fans insisted it was because he was an Omega- he was being overlooked, they said. It was sexist and unfair.

Rami didn’t read that much into it. He simply hadn’t won so far, that was all, he was sure of it. 

He hoped he’d win this time.

  
  
  
  
  
  


To Rami’s delight, they were all in the same hotel, even the _Queen_ boys. The press kept hanging around outside, wanting a glimpse of the band, or the actors, preferably all of them.

It was all a whirlwind, rushing to get ready on time. Rami had had long debates with his stylist about what to wear. He wasn’t about to turn up in something revealing, thank you; fuck what the Alphas in charge wanted, he wanted to look classy. It was the Golden Globes, not a club. He absolutely refused to wear something see-through.

“But they’ll expect-”

“Something to ogle at, I know,” Rami cut his stylist off sharply, and she quickly closed her mouth. He folded his arms, standing as tall as he could. He’d developed something of a mantra that helped him during filming: _What Would Freddie Do?_ or _WWFD_ for short. He knew exactly what Freddie would do about this. He’d refuse to go along with it and dress in something skimpy to make the Alphas in charge happy. He’d refuse to be their fanservice. 

So did Rami.

“It’s the Golden Globes,” Rami reminded his stylist. “Not a club, or a regular party. I’m not turning up half-dressed.”

As worried as she was about offending the Alphas in charge, or causing some sort of upset, she thankfully worried more about upsetting _Rami,_ so she went along with it.

In the end, he was wearing something surprisingly traditional. It was a black suit, in a traditional Omega cut: the jacket’s train swept all the way down to the floor. It didn’t button closed like a regular jacket; instead a belt held it all together. The hem had thin twisting lines of gold embroidery, the belt’s golden buckle was studded here and there with diamonds. His shirt was a little more low-cut than he would have liked, but if he could survive days of filming in leotards he could easily put up with this.

He thought he looked quite nice, actually. 

The longer he looked in the mirror, the more he could have sworn he once saw a photo of Freddie in something similar, but he couldn’t be sure.

And then there was a knock on his door.

He went to answer it, assuming it would be Joe, Ben or Gwil. Instead, it was Freddie, already dressed himself in a gorgeous white and silver suit.

“Hello, darling,” Freddie said brightly. Don’t you look handsome?”

“You do too,” Rami said, letting him in, and Freddie laughed.

“Oh, lovie, you’re sweet but utterly full of it,” he said, sitting on the edge of Rami’s bed. “I’m far too old for that now.”

“Not a bit,” Rami protested, sitting next to him. He’d seen all the shit that the press said about Freddie these days; _too old, let himself go, unseemly._ It was all total crap. Freddie just shook his head at him, smiling.

“Well, lovely as all this flattery is, I’m actually here to give you something.” He pulled a small black box from his pocket and handed it to Rami. “Just something of a good luck present.”

Inside the box was an impossibly delicate diamond bracelet. Rami was almost afraid to lift it, certain it would shatter the second he laid a hand on it.

_“Fred,”_ he gasped, turning to gape at his friend and mentor, this funny little father-figure. “I- oh, I can’t accept it, it’s way too expensive and-”

“Don’t get too excited,” Freddie said gently. “It’s actually one of my old ones.”

“...Really?” Rami asked quietly, suddenly feeling dangerously close to tears.

Freddie nodded. “Really. The boys bought it for me years ago, after I announced my solo album. Plenty of people weren’t happy with me. They insisted I was breaking _Queen_ up, they said I was being selfish, that I couldn’t possibly produce an album on my own. But Rog, Brian and Deacy bought this as a good luck gift. I wore it the whole time I recorded the damn thing.” He gave a rueful smile. “I was more nervous than I wanted to admit.” He gave Rami a little nudge. “Sound familiar, darling?”

“Definitely,” Rami said, still choked up. “I...You’re sure?”

“Certain,” Freddie said. “You don’t have to wear it, darling.”

“I will,” Rami said, sitting up straighter. He struggled with the small clasp; Freddie had to do it for him in the end, and Rami flung his arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, face pressed against Freddie’s skinny shoulder.

“You’ll knock them all dead, darling,” Freddie said, sounding completely confident. “I promise.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Rami dearly wished the rest of the cast were with him. They’d all walked the red carpet together, presenting a united front, but Rami was the only one here now, for the actual ceremony. The others were in another room, watching the whole thing on a screen.

So in lieu of his pack, Rami stuck close to _Queen._ Freddie squeezed his hand, giving him an encouraging smile, and Roger winked at him; Deacy gave him a thumbs up, and Brian smiled gently with a little nod.

And then, to his complete and utter shock and joy…

“The Golden Globe for Best Actor goes to...Rami Malek!”

Just like that, the whole room was clapping and cheering; they even played _Bohemian Rhapsody_ over the speakers, and Rami just couldn’t believe it. He’d _won!_ He’d actually won!

Freddie hugged him tightly, and Brian, Roger and Deacy rushed to follow, all four of them hugging him so hard he could barely breathe, and Rami clung to them just as tightly.

“Told you so,” Freddie said, grinning without hiding his teeth, a grin Rami was happy to return.

How he made his way to the stage without tripping, he never knew. His legs seemed to have turned to jelly. Everyone’s cheers were ringing in his ears, and as he accepted the award, it all felt like a dream. He looked out at the crowd, half expecting someone to shout out that an Omega didn’t deserve to win against so many Alphas. This was a trick, it had been rigged, he’d cheated somehow…

But no. No, he could only see smiling faces. Some of them looked surprised, that was true, but no one was booing or shouting curses. Everyone was _clapping._

But then the claps stopped, and he was expected to speak. For a moment, his mind went blank, and he forgot every word he knew in every language he knew.

“I...Wow, just gimme a second,” he requested with a shaky laugh. “I need to get my head on straight.”

There was some indulgent laughter, and Rami took a deep breath, telling himself to get a grip and _speak._ Show them what an Omega was capable of.

“I- Oh my God. I’m pretty overwhelmed right now, in case that wasn’t obvious,” he finally said. “My heart’s pounding out of my chest right now.” He had to take a deep breath to steady himself. He felt _jittery,_ not quite able to stand still. “I’m...It’s truly a profound honour to receive this, and to be counted amongst such extraordinary actors. Thank you, thank you for this incredible recognition. I- I have to thank... _Everyone_ that worked so tirelessly to make this film what it is, and in the process gave me…” He thought of Gwil, Joe and Ben, and he began to smile. “This _incredible_ pack, this family. Wherever the hell you guys are right now, just know that I’m going to tackle you _so hard_ in a moment. I’ll be all over you guys.” He was laughing as he said it; he saw the _Queen_ boys laughing, some people were clapping again.

He had to fight the urge to pinch himself, to see if he’d wake up.

“And of course, I have to thank the entire crew, for pouring their hearts and souls into this film. Thank you to Fox, for believing in us when so few did. And...And my mom, my siblings, my whole family. And of course…” He looked to their table, he looked at _Queen,_ and he kept his eyes on them as he continued: “Thank you to _Queen._ ”

The whole room began to clap and cheer in agreement, and even with the microphone Rami had to raise his voice to be heard.

“To you, Brian May; to Roger Taylor, to John Deacon and, of course, to Freddie Mercury. _Thank you_ for ensuring that authenticity and inclusivity exists in music, and in the _world,_ and in all of us.” As he adjusted his stance, his bracelet caught the light, and he felt terribly close to crying again. He looked right at Freddie, held his gaze, and the words came pouring out with ease: “Freddie, thank you for giving me the joy of a lifetime.”

Freddie grinned at him, eyes suspiciously bright.

“I love you, you beautiful man. This is for, and _because_ of you, gorgeous!” Giddy, he blew a kiss, which Freddie pretended to catch with a laugh.

The cheers were deafening by then, and Rami all but ran back to their table.

Brian instantly pulled him into a hug, Roger was yelling “That’s my boy!” Dexter clapped him on the back, Deacy was still clapping, his smile a little wobbly.

Freddie all but shoved Brian aside and hugged Rami tightly, and Rami clung to him, careful not to hit him with the Golden Globe.

“I’m _so_ proud of you,” Freddie murmured, still holding on tight. 

“I love you,” Rami repeated, and Freddie’s laugh was slightly shaky, almost a sob.

“I love you too, darling.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Sometimes, Rami still couldn’t believe this was all real. Suddenly, people knew him. Suddenly, people _wanted_ to know him. He broke all expectations and even went on to win an Oscar. It seemed like things just kept getting better and better.

Part of him wondered if, after the awards, everyone would fade out of his life. They didn’t. He, Joe, Gwil and Ben all stuck together like glue, frequently calling, texting and face-timing each other. They met up when they could, and Rami was even persuaded to join in Joe’s pictures and videos.

And then there was _Queen._ They didn’t leave either. 

Brian frequently fussed on if Rami was eating enough. When filming for _Mr Robot_ started up again, Brian pitched a fit over how skinny Rami had gotten.

Roger sent him the most random and nonsensical things, at the most random of hours. He once sent three Kermit the Frog memes in a row with no explanation. When Rami asked for one he simply received a thumbs-up emoji in return.

Deacy asked after his health and family, and always asked if anyone on set was bothering him, if anyone was being inappropriate at all, and if he needed help. He encouraged Rami to take a break when he needed it, to not push himself to the point of falling ill, or fainting again.

And then there was Freddie. Freddie, who called him like clock-work to check in on him. Freddie, who let Rami rant about how some Alphas were well and truly pigs; who sent him pictures of his cat army, who cooed in sympathy when Rami was in heat, and utterly fed up with the world. Freddie Mercury, who Rami wanted to be like.

How could Rami _not_ admire him? Freddie had beaten all the odds, even when they’d been horribly stacked against him. Freddie had been so _brave,_ for years and years. He felt that the movie posters got it right: _Fearless lives forever._

Freddie Mercury was a legend, no exaggeration. 

Playing him, Rami had learned to be braver himself. To hold his head high, and fight for what he wanted.

So it was no wonder really, that when Fox contacted him about a sequel the moment 2020 hit, he instantly agreed.

“I’ll do it,” he said happily. His phone was already buzzing, his and the boys’ group-chat bombarded with messages. “Of course I’ll do it.”

He hung up, and looked at the group chat. Right there, was a ten message long rant from Joe, that ended in _“WE’RE BACK BABY!!!”_

Laughing, Rami sent a whole line of love hearts and grinning emojis. Ben sent a short video of himself, screaming. Gwil sent the _We Are The Champions_ music video.

And Rami texted Freddie a simple message: _“Don’t suppose you can give me baby tips?”_

Freddie instantly rang him.

“Either you’re pregnant, or Fox just got ahold of you,” Freddie said gleefully.

“Fox,” Rami said, grinning. He bounced on the spot, fighting the urge to shriek in excitement. “So. Baby tips?”

“I’ll be there,” Freddie said, laughing. “Of course I’ll be there, darling.”

Later that week, the day the news officially broke, Rami, Gwil, Joe and Ben all got together in London and met the _Queen_ boys. They met at Freddie’s house and, standing in front of those infamous gate, got Jim to take a picture of them all, crowded together. Freddie had even put on his old stage crown.

He couldn’t blame the fans for being surprised that he actually uploaded to Instagram. It was a long standing joke that he never appeared on social media.

But this time, he even uploaded before Joe. He uploaded the group shot, and a selfie of himself and Freddie, with Rami wearing the crown this time.

  
 _“Here we go again..._ 👑 _”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've said before that in this 'verse, BoRhap would get a sequel 😉 I decided to let Rami have some fun with it.
> 
> David Minns' chapter is still in the works and currently longer than expected, so here's the plan: I'll upload Maeve's chapter (the finale chapter) ASAP, and if I can cut David's down I'll put it in here later. Otherwise, it'll become it's own one-shot.


	25. Maeve Hutton: The Proof Of Your Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maeve looked up to him more than anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Maeve is attached to Freddie's hip, shows her protective side, and we see some glimpses of the future.

**_“So let my life be the proof, the proof of your love. Let my love look like you and what you're made of. How you lived, how you died, love is sacrifice; so let my life be the proof, the proof of your love.” -The Proof of Your Love,_ ** **For King And Country**

Maeve had always rather been a Papa’s girl. She was teased relentlessly- by her friends, by Joe, Roger, Kashmira and Anita- but it was the truth, at the end of the day. 

She used to cling to Freddie like a monkey. She’d follow him around Garden Lodge, always wanting his attention. She could admit that she barely gave the poor man a moment’s peace: the second he sat down she’d crawl into his lap, demanding all his attention, looking for cuddles, or a story, or a song. She got oddly jealous when he went on tour; she missed him, and she didn’t care how much the rest of the world wanted him, or how much they wanted to hear Freddie sing. She wanted him to sing for _her,_ because _he_ was hers.

More often than not, when she was very small, she’d tip-toe into Freddie and Jim’s room. Standing on her toes, she’d reach out and shake Freddie’s arm.

“Papa?” she’d whisper. _“Papa?”_

Slowly, his eyes would crack open. “Maevie?” Freddie would squint at her, almost like he’d forgotten who she was. Then he’d push himself up with a small sigh. “What’s wrong, darling?”

“Can’t sleep,” was the usual answer, and every time Freddie would lift her up, deposit her between himself and Jim, curl around her and fall back asleep. And Maeve, squished between both her parents (and likely a few cats) would drift off, safe as could be.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Maeve had always looked up to him. Freddie could do no wrong in her eyes. Oh certainly, he could be maddening, as all parents were. She’d accuse him of being unfair, he’d tell her to quit it with the dramatics- that was his job. But for the most part, Maeve adored him, utterly adored him. He was everything she wanted to be. He was kind, and clever, and so incredibly caring, so very brave.

For a long time, she didn’t realise just how brave he was.

She knew there were some things he didn’t tell her. There were gaps in his stories, blanks, missing pages. Some details didn’t quite add up. She knew he’d run away from an arranged marriage, but she also knew there were some gaping holes in that story. She knew he’d lived alone for a long time, but had no idea where, or what he’d been up to. She knew there were some boyfriends he refused to talk about. She knew EMI had been awful, but she’d had no idea _how_ awful.

One thing she knew was that her classmate Archie was a dick. He looked down on Omegas as if they were objects. He truly seemed to believe the old-fashioned rubbish that they were an Alpha’s property. He didn’t give their Omega teachers any respect.

Maeve didn’t bother hiding that she hated him, and he didn’t bother hiding that he hated her.

And damn did he know how to make her angry.

She entered the class on Monday morning before any of her friends. Archie and his cronies were all huddled around Archie’s desk, laughing at something.

“Found it in my dad’s stuff,” Archie was boasting. For a moment, Maeve assumed it was cigarettes or something. Something Archie’s dad wouldn’t want him taking.

But then Archie spotted her and _grinned._

“So how’s your slut dad doing?” he asked, and the other boys laughed. One of them wolf-whistled, and Maeve saw _red._

_“Excuse me?”_ she hissed, and Archie sauntered over, holding a piece of paper. He held it out and Maeve felt light-headed. It wasn’t paper, it was a _photo._ A photo of her papa, without any clothes on. It was black and white, and he looked...He looked all _wrong._ He looked submissive, kneeling on the ground, his legs spread, a long silky looking blanket just barely covering him, eyes on the floor.

_But Papa doesn’t do nude photoshoots,_ she thought, barely able to breathe. It looked _old,_ it was clearly from the 70s, what with how long Freddie’s hair was, with the mark on his neck left, no doubt, by Roger.

“All the crap about how Omegas are equal,” Archie said, looming over her. “And your dad’s nothing but a slut too.”

Maeve looked at him, looked at the glint in his eyes, the sneer on his face. His friends were all laughing, they were laughing at her _papa,_ and she couldn’t stand it.

Shauna walked in and instantly tensed. “What’s going on?” she asked, but Maeve barely heard her. There was a ringing noise in her ears, and for a moment she wanted to throw up.

She looked at that photo of her papa, barely looking like the Freddie she knew, and something in her snapped.

Snarling, growling, Maeve pounced.

  
  
  
  
  
  


The principal called Freddie and Jim, of course. Maeve had ripped the photo in half, had kneed Archie in the balls, and Archie’s dad had the grace to look embarrassed as the principal handed the torn photo to him. He caught Jim’s eye, and Jim growled at him.

Freddie seemed torn between embarrassment and fury as the principal explained the whole situation. Even as they left, Freddie didn’t say a word. It put Maeve on edge, made her almost afraid to leave.

As soon as they were in the car, Freddie buried his face in his hands, letting out a shaky breath.

“Papa?” Maeve was aghast, certain she’d made him cry.

“Honey?” Jim laid a hand on his arm, and Freddie sat up straight, running a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath in Gujarati. He caught Maeve’s eye in the rear-view mirror and winced.

“Right,” Freddie said, voice wavering slightly. “Suppose I’d better explain.”

“You don’t have to,” Maeve said quickly, because she hated how sad he looked, she hated how furious Jim seemed.

“I do,” Freddie sighed. “You’re not a baby anymore, darling. You can know some of it.”

“Some of what?” she asked.

“I need to tell you about EMI,” he said quietly.

  
  
  
  
  
  


She didn’t know Norman Sheffield, or Ray Foster, or Paul Prenter. She’d never met them. She never would, seeing as Prenter was long dead. But Sheffield and Foster were alive, albeit forced into retirement, and she _hated_ it. She hated them.

She hated knowing that Freddie wasn’t telling her everything, even then. Details were missing, some details didn’t match up, he was clearly censoring himself.

The nude photoshoot was actually for all of _Queen,_ he told her with a forced smile, while Jim hovered protectively. People just tended to focus on Freddie’s photos. He’d been the only Omega there, and everyone had been rude and inappropriate, so he refused to do ‘shoots like that anymore. He had enough power to turn such offers down now, but didn’t back then.

She was sixteen when she looked into it all herself, and found the truth. She read the interviews regarding the nude photoshoot, and nearly broke Joe’s computer as she read it all. She looked up Sheffield, Foster and Prenter, and her blood boiled. Accusations of abuse, verbal, physical and sexual. Attempted rape. _Actual_ rape stories, some of Sheffield’s friends put on trial, but never Sheffield himself.

Someone had leaked a copy of EMI’s contract, and it was there for all the internet, for all the world to see.

Her papa, her Freddie, could so easily have become someone’s sex toy for the duration of his contract. If just one thing went wrong…

Maeve threw up, gasping and heaving, and Freddie found her crouched over the toilet in her en suite, sobbing.

_“Maevie!”_ He was white as a sheet, holding her hair back, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Oh, darling, are you okay?”

“They’re monsters,” she sobbed. “All of them.”

She just couldn’t comprehend it. How could anyone want to hurt Freddie? How could anyone even consider it? _Why?_ What had he ever done to them?

She wouldn’t let anyone hurt him, she thought. She simply _wouldn’t._

  
  
  
  
  
  


Freddie could often be impatient, but not with her. He sat and watched _Thumbelina_ with her hundreds of times, smiling as she sang along, yanking her back when she sat too close to the telly. He’d read her the book every night, never letting on if he was fed up with the fairytale. 

She was a hyper toddler, running everywhere, shrieking in excitement over the smallest things, giggling over nothing, and Freddie was always patient with her, letting her blow off steam. 

As a teenager, she could get into strops, slamming doors and screaming, but he always knew how to make her creep out of her room, head bowed, apologetic. 

And he was a damn _master_ when it came to helping her handle her heats.

When she was thirteen, during her third heat ever, she flopped next to him on the sofa and buried her face in his lap, whining low in her throat. Her head hurt, her stomach churned, and random bouts of sadness kept hitting her.

“Can’t I just opt out?” she asked hopefully. 

“Afraid not,” Freddie said, running a hand through her hair. “Hold on, lovie, scooch up a moment.” He gently pushed her up, and to her confusion he gathered every pillow in the living room, and fetched a spare pair of blankets from the cupboard in the hall. She quickly copped on as he arranged them all just so, bundling her up and holding her close, humming under his breath.

Just like that, she felt soothed. She was curled up in a nest of their own, safe in her papa’s arms. She breathed in his familiar scent, pressed herself against his chest, and listened to his heartbeat. 

“You’re magic,” Maeve mumbled, closing her eyes, and Freddie chuckled at her.

“Just experienced,” he said.

  
  
  
  
  
  


He was there for everything. He could have died giving birth, but he constantly said it was worth it. That _she_ was worth it. He was there for her first steps, her first laugh; he clapped when he first heard her say _“Da!”_ he cried when she first said _“Papa.”_ He was there for her first day of school, crying when she cried, encouraging her to be brave. He frowned at her first boyfriend, he held her when they broke up, ordering her favourite take-away and letting her rant about how all Alphas were utter pigs.

He was the first one she went to, when she first thought of proposing to Carrie. She was twenty-four, and she was as nervous as she’d been when she was sixteen.

“What do I do?” she fretted, and Freddie smiled at her, patting her hand.

“Whatever feels right,” he said. “Don’t dwell too much, sweetheart.”

All things considered then, it was no wonder that Maeve went straight to Freddie when she and Carrie were considering children.

“What if I’m not a good mum?” she asked, feeling horribly near tears. 

And Freddie, as if it was so simple, said “You’ll be the best, Maeve. Both of you will.”

She looked at him, his eyes shining, eyes she’d inherited, and she nodded. Because she couldn’t help but believe him. She always did.

So Maeve was a papa’s girl. Sue her. You couldn’t really blame her. Freddie was there for her, no matter what. He was kind, clever, creative and brave.

If she could raise a child to be anything like Freddie, then Maeve would know she’d done a good job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maeve and Freddie will be the main focus on the finale, so don't worry, there's plenty of family content (and drama) to come! Thanks so much for reading guys; we all need more Freddie-centric content if you ask me 💕

**Author's Note:**

> I'm planning at least one more Kashmira chapter; their relationship is adorable and I'm having fun with her. It occurred to me a while back that I don't think I've ever actually confirmed her dynamic! Like Phoebe, I have neglected her. Sorry, Kashi.
> 
> As always, if anyone has any requests (someone you really want to see ASAP, BoRhap boys, a particular scenario, etc) feel free to let me know! 💕💕


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